Birds of a Feather
by platospens
Summary: The story of young Tom Riddle as he starts Hogwarts and a look at how he became to be Lord Voldemort. AU with OC.
1. Chapter 1

****A/N: I just realized the year was off for when Tom started school, the first was a guess, but I found out I was few years off, so that's the only change on this.

**Birds of a Feather**

September 1st, 1938

There was a flurry of colors and smells as people rushed between the platforms of King's Cross Station. Everyone seemed to be headed to someplace in an awful hurry. So much so, that no one stopped to realize that a small little boy had been walking between the 9th and 10th platform, seemingly aimless, for the past hour. Frustrated beyond belief and mentally cursing non-cooperative engineers who laughed in your face when you asked a simple question (like how to get onto platform 9 ¾), he sat down on his trunk and exhaled a breath of frustration. If there was one thing Tom Riddle hated, it was being laughed at. He had it in his right mind to teach the pompous man a lesson, however, he restrained himself due to fact that there were too many people and even if he did do something, he would have no idea what was going to happen. Only that something would.

Suddenly, Tom saw a family go by. Not something to uncommon here, except that one of the boys had a snowy white owl in a cage. Tom's attention focused in on them like a hawk in flight to a mouse, as he stood and followed; not close enough for them to notice him, but close enough for him to see what they were doing.

"Hurry _up_ Abraxas! The train will leave soon and then how will you get to school?" the woman said coldly.

"It's not _my_ fault I couldn't find my wand! The stupid house elf kept it in the trunk-"

"Where you should've put it in the first-"

But the woman was cut off as she…that's impossible…she couldn't have…could she?

'Magic…' Tom thought in awe. Tom rolled his trunk and decided to try it out for himself. As he positioned himself in front of the barrier of Platform 9, he took an unnoticeable breath to put himself at ease. Then, with his eyes open, he strode towards the wall. He braced himself for the impact and even allowed himself to close his eyes when he was at a distance close enough where no one would see that he had. It was close now. 5 meters away….now 3…..now 1….he clamped his eyes shut and waited for it; that crash that would sound as he hit the solid brick. He imagined how utterly ridiculous he would look, how the engineer from earlier would have a jolly good laugh at his expense again. He waited for it, but all he felt was a rush of air and the disappearance of all the noise from the platform. The type of silence that rings in your ears due to an absolute absence of sound, not even your breath or the beat of your heart. Then, almost as soon as it came, it was gone and the sounds of chatter and laughter came back.

Tom opened his eyes. Swarms of people mulled around and a mirage of colors assaulted his eyes as robes of every color imaginable donned by, what he now knew must be, witches and wizards swirled by.

Tom must have been gawking in silent awe for too long for someone slammed into him from behind. Hot rage built up rapidly in him as he turned a cool exterior around to see his assailant. An older boy, maybe a fifth or sixth year, smirked down at him as he lifted his hand and ruffled Tom's hair. If his anger could possibly been stoked any further this was the only way Tom thought was possible. His eyes darkened as he looked up at the boy. Tom was beginning to contemplate several ways to show this insolent prat just how powerful he was. His only problem was that he couldn't properly channel his power to do as he wished it to. He could release it, like he had several times in the orphanage, but there was no telling what it could do and no way to make it do something specific. And right now Tom wanted to hang this boy by his toes.

"Watch out there! Someone could cream you if you stand in front of the barrier, little tyke," the boy said with a warm smile. He looked up when he heard someone calling him (apparently his name was Anthony Freeman) and he promptly walked off.

Tom's face was indifferent but inside he was fuming like never before. Little? Tyke? Who this…this…GAH! He couldn't even come up with a proper name for him! But who did he think he was? Tom continued to stew as he boarded the train. He strode down the aisles of the compartment scouring for a place where he could be alone and finish completing the death plans Anthony Freeman had coming to him. Hanging by his toes was simply unacceptable at this point.

"What's a filthy wench like you doing here?"

"I thought you darkies wanted to be rid of us! And now you're following us to OUR country like a pack of disease infested rodents?"

"And they're infiltrating Hogwarts. How did the Board of Education possibly let you by? They're standards must be really lacking as of late."

Tom looked ahead and saw three older students grouped around the entry way to a compartment.

His first instinct was to roll his eyes and continue down the hall. So some students were bold enough to put down a younger year for their skin so openly. He failed to see how this was his problem. Sure, racial discrimination was supposedly frowned upon in Hogwarts but even he knew that was never going to be properly implemented. There would always be students and even teachers who did not agree that all subjects of the Ministry should be allowed to attend the school. A court case had been held a month back when a student of Kenyan descent had petitioned Hogwarts for entry on the grounds that there was no formal schooling to be had in his current place of residence. Children in other parts of the world usually were taught whatever their parents learned and, like stories, it was passed down from generation to generation. The wizarding community in England had been in an uproar unseen in decades and violent crimes were still being committed against any and all non-European witches and wizards living in the London area and even in some of the country side residencies. Why, hadn't a lynching been reported just last week in Ottery St. Catchpole? However, the Court had ruled that the student, although of non-English inheritance, did in fact reside in English territory (as a colony), and so he was granted admission. Unfortunately, the boy had met an "untimely death" shortly upon docking in a port in Liverpool.

Tom intended to continue his seemingly futile search for an empty compartment when he happened to glance at the group again. One more glance and he realized with a jolt that one of the perpetrators was Mr. Freeman himself. Still angry from his previous encounter with said boy, Tom could've jumped with joy for the excuse to beat the naïve child to a pulp. Except that that kind of a display of blatant emotion was something Tom just didn't do.

"Hey! What are you three doing there?" Tom stated authoritatively. The three turned around to see him. Obviously he wasn't exactly the largest threat they had seen. Or at least, they didn't think he looked it.

"Observing the kind of rotting rubbish this school has allowed to come to Hogwarts and contaminate everything it touches. Why don't you come and have a look for yourself, kid?" Freeman crooned smugly. The two other boys chortled as if what he had said was particularly witty.

"If it is so filthy, why don't you _leave_," Tom hissed. It was less of a question and more of a threat. Apparently the brainless gits weren't completely brainless for they seemed to finally register the underlying anger Tom was exhibiting.

"Oh ho! Looky here boys! A darkie lover!" Freeman had a real nice laugh with that one. Tom's fury was further bolstered by their mirth. Suddenly the air seemed to change around him and about 2 seconds before it happened, he knew what was now inevitable. Like a miniature sonic boom, energy channeled from him and plunged forward towards the boys. They flew about 20 feet backwards and collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs.

Breathing heavily and a little surprised by the shear display of power and the feeling of the euphoria from it, Tom stood stalk still as he observed his work. They seemed to be knocked out cold. Otherwise they were too scared to move and show they were alright in case they received an encore. A head poked out from the compartment.

"Thank you for your help, but I could've handled them," the head said. Tom slowly turned his head to voice, using as little energy as he could. It was girl. Well, that was unexpected. Tom remained quiet from a lack of energy. She must have misinterpreted his actions. It was easy to do since she didn't know the previous encounter he had had with Freeman.

"I honestly don't give a damn if you could've handled them," he said frostily, "I had a score to settle with one of those dunder heads." 'And it has not yet been paid back in full,' he thought to himself.

"Oh. Well do you have a place to sit? You still have your trunk on you."

"I'm looking for a place to sit alone. So I can have _peace_ and _quiet_," he said condescendingly.

"Well, I won't talk much if that's what you want. Besides, the rest of the compartments are full. No one gets one to themselves when they come onto the train this late," she said with a smile. What did it take to turn this girl off? He basically told her on her face he didn't give a rat's ass about her then to add insult to injury, he spoke down to her. Still she smiles and offers him solitude? Tom, too drained to bring himself to continue down the long aisle of endless compartments (compartments he knew would be full as she said), sighed softly and shoved her as he pushed past her. At least he may be able to get some peace here, if she stayed true to her word.

The two sat down across from each other and next to the window. Tom got lost in his own thoughts, not all of them necessarily about Freeman anymore. He thought of Hogwarts, how life was going to be so much more different now that he wasn't in that wretched prison anymore.

'At least for the year,' he thought sullenly, but banished these thoughts from his mind and concentrated on what lay immediately ahead. He had bought a book from the bookstore from his trip to Diagon Alley, Hogwarts: A History. Naturally, Tom had read it twice by the time he boarded the train. He thought back to one of the passages he had read about the houses. From what he read, he hoped to get in Slytherin. Just reading the word had sent a shiver down his spine. The sense of power that the name extruded was not lost on Tom. It could also be that the word sounded so similar to the hisses of a snake. But honestly, for Tom, anything but Hufflepuff would suit his purposes just fine.

Tom's gaze drifted to the girl in front of him. Her face was buried in the book she was reading, something about the universe and planets, things that didn't interest Tom unless it could help him in some way. He observed her silently, taking in her appearance. He scowled slightly at the untidy bun atop her head. Her hair, much like his, was a deep black color and her skin, a rich olive tone. She was most likely from some part of the Indian colonies as far as he could tell. Her fingers that gripped the tome she was so engrossed in were long and slender but seemed strong. Tom returned his gaze out to the outside scenery and observed the English countryside as it rolled by. Just as he was about to return to his thoughts of his future, the voice of his companion very nearly caused him a severe case of whiplash.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Tom noticed then, at the oddest time too, that she had a lilt in her voice. He had only heard the type of accent she carried once before, when he had seen a boy and his nanny (or, as he had called her, his Ayah). The ayah had the same kind of lilting voice that this girl spoke with. It was confirmed then. She was Indian.

"What are you going on about?" He asked snidely once he had gotten over his shock. She looked up from her book.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she repeated but Tom only looked at her like she had grown another head. She sighed and proceeded to clarify.

"You were looking over here. I thought you were looking at me, but I really couldn't be sure. I had been a little preoccupied," she stated with a smile. Tom could only look at her for a few seconds in bewilderment. Was she totally off her rocker? Her large, almond shaped brown eyes were smiling too. Was she drunk? Had she taken too much of her medication? Slightly put off that her awkward, open ended question had left him speechless, he resorted to a grunt and looked out the window again.

"Was that a yes then?" she asked. He turned back and looked at her to see if she was serious. From her genuine look of confusion, she was. Tom gave her the original are-you-kidding-me? look which prompted her to chuckle lightly.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked hotly.

"You-you look funny when you do that!" she exclaimed between giggles.

'She's crazy! She's absolutely batty!' his mind thought. A furious whirl of images of her actually being this happy to lure him into a false sense of security so she could kill him (or worse, eat him) when he least expected it played in his mind's eye like a news reel at the cinema. Tom started to regret even stepping into the compartment in the first place. Why? Why had he not refused like his gut told him to and looked for another compartment? Sure, he may not have found an empty one, but even one with a gaggle of giggling girls was better than this!

"Would you like me to be quiet again?" she asked with her head slightly cocked to the side and a silly grin on her face. It was all Tom could do to nod in the affirmative. She beamed brightly and ducked her head back into the depths of her book. Tom now knew why she was reading it. She was trying to discover her home planet.

The train ride to Hogwarts had been long and ('thank god!' Tom thought) quiet. Tom scrambled off the train as soon as it pulled into the station.

'FREE! FREE AT LAST! And I'm alive!' His mind was doing cartwheels and his heart was soaring. He didn't think he had ever been that happy to be rid of someone in his life.

"FIRST YEARS! FOLLOW ME! ALL FIRST YEARS THIS WAY!" Yelled a man about 20 meters from him; Tom began to roll his trunk on that a ways. All around him children his age were flowing in a massive crowd. He observed the faces that passed him by. Most looked nervous, some even petrified. Tom inwardly smirked and outwardly schooled his features into the cool, calm expression he had trained himself to always project. Tom knew from his research that it had been customary for all new members of Hogwarts to cross the Great Lake in front of the school by boat and enter the Great Hall by the side door. The man had ushered Tom into a boat and then proceeded to put someone else by him.

"You know, I never got your name."

Tom's head whirled around as his insides squirmed with the recognition of the feminine, lilting voice. Sure enough, there she was. Smiling. Again. If Tom and this girl were comic book characters, Tom would have had smoke coming from his head, so much was his frustration.

"Leave me alone you loon!" Tom all but shouted. One of her black, arched eyebrows rose.

"You think I'm crazy?" she broke off laughing, "All this time I thought you were acting this way because you were shy!" She started laughing. Tom didn't like this girl. She made odd comments and exhibited even odder emotions that left him incapable of the snide remarks she deserved. He didn't like the fact that she could spark reactions he had thought he had long ago gotten rid of. She unarmed him at every chance he gave her. Why was he giving her chances?

"Leave me alone," he replied darkly, "Leave me alone and don't talk to me." She met his glare with curiousness. The way she was looking at him, it was hard to describe the feeling, but he suddenly felt like a particularly puzzling book that she was trying to decipher; only, the characters were in a foreign language, but she knew that if she looked long enough, they would spell themselves out to her. Tom shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and, finally, was able to pull his eyes from hers. He felt her jerk once and looked back at her. The smile that had made her way over her face again was one of mirth; she immediately stifled it and attempted to shove it back to wherever it bubbled up from. Tom rolled his eyes in irritation.

"Sorry. You don't seem to like people laughing at you, but I couldn't help it." He wasn't looking at her. He was forcing himself not to. (God! Just how large was this lake?) But he could feel her eyes on him. He shifted again, hating the way she was making him behave; the way she was making him feel.

"I'm making you feel like a goldfish in a bowl aren't I?" She asked after a little while. Tom just sent her a dirty look.

"Sorry," she said softly, turning her head forward toward what he realized was Hogwarts. The castle stood tall and imposing in the darkness of the night and Tom felt a little of the fear his classmates were showing creep up inside of him. A thousand glittering lights illuminated the windows of the tall towers and the spires were enveloped in the evening fog. It was a half moon night.

Soon enough, the boats began to dock by the school. Tom felt relief wash over him as he was allowed to leave the boat and put some distance between himself and her.

"Welcome first years! I am Professor Dumbledore. I teach Transfiguration here at Hogwarts and am looking forward to seeing you all in my class in the upcoming weeks! I do trust your journey here went smoothly…" a soft murmur swept through the students in the affirmative. Dumbledore beamed. "I'm glad to hear that. Now if you will just follow me, I will take you up to Great Hall where the sorting ceremony will be held. Then you all may have your fill of dinner before bed. I do say the house elves have been especially busy today. I think we can expect a very sumptuous meal to send us to bed," he chortled merrily with a twinkle in his eye. The same twinkle had been there when he had come to see Tom in the orphanage.

Dumbledore was right about going to bed with a full stomach. Tom had been sorted into Slytherin to his delight. To add more fire wood to the happy glow that was his mood, Thirumala Arjuna (the annoyance with a lilt) was sorted into Ravenclaw. So she had no excuse to linger and disturb him. Not in the sense that he was busy with something (Tom allowed himself to just sit and admire the Great Hall, just absorbing the general splendor of the room, its many floating candles, and the dark night sky abovethat it had to offer), but more in the sense that she, herself, was disturbing. He had never known what people meant when they said that someone gave them the 'willies', but Tom now thought he had a rather good idea. How she managed to get sorted into a house known for its cleverness was beyond him, but Tom decided not to linger on that thought too much.

Tom looked around the table to see some of his new house mates. Abraxas Malfoy, the boy from the station was three seats down to his left, and next to him a girl, Calypso Lestrange. There was also a slew of Blacks, all siblings or cousins of varying ages. There were a few Averys and few more Notts. There were also three Flints, a set of twins named Greengrass and a pudgy girl and brother duo called Parkinson. Some people called Carrow too. They seemed surprised, to say the least, that Tom had been sorted into their house. And it wasn't the pleasantly surprised kind of surprised either. The first thing people had done to welcome him was to shoot glares in his direction and one even had the audacity to call him a 'mudblood'. Whatever that was, but either way Tom knew it was some sort of insult based on the way the guy had said it. Well, more like snarled it. Tom then let his gaze drift to other tables. The Hufflepuffs seemed to be talking boisterously and the Gryfinndors were listening to one of the older students recount something he had presumably done over the summer, complete with wild hand gestures.

'Must be an Italian' Tom thought wryly. Tom's gaze drifted over the Ravenclaw table just long enough to see Arjuna. She was reading that blasted book again and was sitting with a few other girls, who were chatting much like every other student in the hall that night. It was almost like she felt him watching-er-just casually glancing her way, for she then looked up and found his eyes amongst the crowds and beamed at him. Tom growled softly and whipped his eyes down to his plate. He spent the rest of his meal picking at his roasted potatoes and the seemingly-similar-to-Salisbury-steak he'd served himself with his fork.

Finally, Headmaster Dippet stood to announce that the feast was over and that it was time for bed. Tom determinedly did not look at the Ravenclaw table as he followed the boy who claimed to be the Head Boy of Slytherin and told them to follow him. The Slytherin Common Room was in the dungeons and unlike its less than warm enterance, it was more than warm on the interior. Luxurious was the only word that could come up in Tom's mind when he observed the black leather sofas and the green lighting rebounding off the gray flagstone walls. The tables and bookshelves were nothing like the decrepit and warping wood things in the orphanage. These were a gleaming mahogany and the fireplaces on either side were enormous! A single flight of stairs was in the back of the room and split into two separate flights that went right and left, much like a forked tongue.

"The flight on the right side leads to the girls' dormitory, the left, obviously, leads to the boys'. Any questions?" The Head Boy asked disinterestedly. He apparently wanted to get back to the Head Girl, a petite blonde, who had drifted away from the group once the Head Boy had puffed his chest out and said he could handle it. She then proceeded to walk up with her friends to the Head Boy's great chagrin. She was now sitting by one of the large fireplaces on the left and the Head Boy was glancing her way one too many times for it to be just casual glancing. The other first years were still openly gaping at the large expanse of space and so no one raised their hands let alone realize just where he would rather be and roll their eyes, the way Tom had. Girls were a distraction, one he had no intentions of getting caught up in.

"Fine. Have a good night you lot."And with that, the Head Boy stalked off to pursue his target. Tom proceeded to head up the stairs and then went up the left stairwell as the Head had said to. At the top was a single door. Tom opened it to find a room with about 10 or so beds, each with forest green velvet curtains around them. Tom noticed his trunk with his things at the foot of one of the beds. Like the common room, there were no windows, but that suited Tom just fine. He preferred the dark anyway; it was soothing. Perhaps that was because of the many years he had spent by himself as an outcast in the orphanage, but he didn't want to think of that just now. He would get his revenge on all of them in good time. When the time was right, all those who had spurned him would beg him for mercy. For his benevolence, and he would deny it to them, they way had denied it to him.

Tom had no wishes to socialize with his new housemates. It had been a very long day and Tom was exhausted. It was awhile before Tom was able to fall asleep in the new bed, but before he did, he closed the curtains. And darkness fell upon him.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a couple weeks into school now, and Tom found everything he was taught fascinating. Magic was wonderful! There was no stopping a person so long as they knew how to wield this powerful tool properly. And Tom was determined to do so. But he was also determined to find a way to prove to his housemates just how powerful he was.

After a talk with the old coot Dumbledore, upon his request to "check up" on Tom's "progress with getting acquainted with the school", Tom had learned that most of the students in Slytherin were what wizards here called Purebloods, and since Tom had a last name that wasn't from any recognizable wizarding family, he had been labeled a Muggleborn. Also, he was the only one of Slytherins that wasn't a Pureblood and Dumbledore had expressed his surprise that Tom had been sorted there. He also said some other nonsense about if Tom needed some help with them (obviously implying if the harassing he had received from them got too much) Tom could always come to him to talk. As if. Tom had to hold back the scoff that had risen in his throat at that one.

That was the reason young Tom was in the library with one of the many tomes on wizarding ancestry, armed with the only clue to his past that Tom's mother had given him; his name, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Well, Riddle wasn't going to get him anywhere, and Tom was too common. So that left him with Marvolo. It didn't help that there were no wizarding families named Marvolo. But of course, Tom thought, that would have been too easy, and Tom knew better than anyone that anything worthwhile never came easy, so he kept at it. If there were no last names there, then it had to be someone's first name, as he had hoped it wasn't. Now he would have to scour every family tree till he found it. And what's worse, if there were multiple families with the same name in use then there were no definitive grounds on which he could claim them as his lineage. Tom cringed inwardly at that thought. But there also was no point to thinking those types of thoughts either, when he wasn't even sure the name would be used in ANY family at all. His mother could have been temporarily off her rocker and made it up. She had just given birth after all. There was no saying, unless he plowed on through the tome in front of him. So plow he did, for 5 hours that Saturday, up until his stomach protested loudly. He looked up at the clock on the top of the entryway to the library and saw that lunch was being served currently and would be for about 15 minutes more, so he could grab something if he hurried. His gaze dropped down to the entry proper as he stood up. It was then he noticed someone come into the library.

'Oh no!' his brain screamed. It was the annoyance with a lilt herself. Arjuna hadn't noticed him yet. If he played his cards right he could maybe get out of here without attracting her attention. He had been fortunate enough to not to run into her up till now. Why had it seemed like his luck had run out so suddenly? Tom watched her carefully as he crept behind a couple bookshelves. She sat down at one of the tables in front of the exit and proceeded to get her papers and ink out and laid them out on the table.

'Blast it all! Why does she need to take so long?' Tom thought angrily as he continued to hide in his hiding spot and peered out from a gap between two books. Why? Why did she have place herself in the one place in the library where he couldn't make a quick dash for it and not have her notice him? What was taking so long to rummage through that crummy rucksack of hers? Tom couldn't see the clock from here, but he knew that time was ticking, and this girl seemed to have no intentions of moving. Tom growled in frustration.

Suddenly she stopped rummaging from her sack and Tom feared she had heard him. But then she promptly got up and went off in a direction and suddenly she was out of sight. Cautiously, Tom peered around the bookshelf. She was indeed gone. Tom could've danced for joy.

"You know, this would be a lot more fun if I knew who we were hiding from," said a voice from behind. A very feminine, very lilted voice. Panic shot through Tom as he whirled around, only to see two almond eyes peering down at him. She apparently had a 2 or 3 inch height advantage on him.

"BLAST! What are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?" Tom tritely replied. Tom couldn't keep the anger out of his voice or the panic off his face. She giggled. GIGGLED.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." Tom scowled.

"I wasn't scared."

"Oh?" She replied with a raised eyebrow. But if she was going to say anything else, she wisely kept it to herself. "What are you doing?" was what she decided to say instead. Tom was at a loss, what was he supposed to say? "I was hiding from an 11 year old girl because I get emotionally distressed when she talks to me"? Yeah, not likely.

"I was heading for some lunch when you so rudely interrupted me," Tom said snidely. Yeah, there you go. Put the blame on her. Then she-

"Really? Then why were you staying behind this bookshelf for so long?" Tom looked back at her blankly. But panic, both similar and dissimilar at the same time from the panic he felt when he saw her behind him, built up in him.

"What do you mean?"

'Play it safe man', he thought, 'Don't let her psyche you out.'

"You were back here for the longest time and you kept looking out that gap, so I thought maybe you were spying on Madame Dinkley. She's behind all the disorganization of this library you know. I thought maybe you were trying to catch her in the act." She whispered all this like it was some secret conspiracy that she had caught onto. She was crazy. Surely this was a joke. She had to be-no, no she really wasn't. Her brown eyes held a sort of conviction in them that was sort of hard to ignore. For a second he found himself believing her for a fraction of a second, until he realized what utter nonsense this was. Tom then remembered that he had in fact been on his way to lunch. Quickly he looked around the shelf and up at the clock. 2:05 pm.

"Blast! Lunch is over!" He unknowingly muttered.

"Oh dear, did I hold you up?" She asked innocently. Tom whirled on her.

"What do you think?" Just then his stomach growled and Tom copied it.

"Well, I could take you down to the kitchens if you want. I feel bad for keeping you," she said. Then she looked him up and down. "And you really need to eat."

"Hey! What do you mean by that?" Tom retorted hotly. But it was for naught for she walked past him and continued walking toward the exit. Tom growled softly and picked up his pace to catch up with her.

They continued to walk down random corridors and up and down a few floors. Tom started to get that horrible feeling that she was leading him to his doom. Probably so she could eat him. She hadn't gotten the chance to in the compartment on the train, and now she could. They were far away from any eyes and ears as far as he could tell. Hadn't he read that there were cannibalistic tribes in Africa? Could there be some undiscovered ones in India? And that she was from one of them? Oh sweet mother of Mary! He was too young to die! Why was he following her? He should really turn around and run away. He might get lost, but at least he would be alive. Just then, she turned her head over her shoulder and beamed at him. Tom sighed and continued to follow.

They stopped at a portrait. She looked up at it and began to reach up as if she was going to touch it.

Tom looked at her, puzzled.

She sighed as she found she could not reach what it was that she wanted to reach. She turned and looked at Tom, almost expectantly. But that was ridiculous, because that would mean that she expected him to do something-her foot started tapping.

Tom looked at her, puzzled.

She gestured to the painting and looked at him, this time some exasperation creeping into the expectant look she was throwing at him.

And Tom continued to look at her, puzzled.

She stomped her foot and let out a rush of air along with a sound worthy of being called a growl, like the ones Tom allowed himself to indulge in so often.

"Could you give a little help?"

"It would help if I knew what it was you were trying to accomplish," he replied coolly with a smug smirk.

"I'm _trying_ to tickle the pear." Tom was silent for a while.

"To _tickle_. The pear. In that painting."

"Yes! What? Are you deaf or do you just have a virulent strain of idiocy infecting you?"

"WHAT?" Tom exclaimed bewildered. "You're crazy! Do you hear me? Certifiably insane! That is a bowl of fruit, you can't tickle fruit! Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you yourself are a little fruity yourself. You know-"

"YOU KNOW? It would be nice if you could just give me a lift. It would be for your own sake that we are here in the first place." She said this rather crisply and sent a very impressive (though Tom would never admit it) death glare his way. Tom wasn't aware she had it in her and so he just acquiesced.

"Fine. How do you want to do this?"

"You're the one lifting me up. So you tell me." Tom sighed exasperatedly and went around back of her and placed his arms around her waist and hoisted her up about 6 or so inches. She had apparently reached said pear for suddenly the portrait swung open inwards. With the loss of her gripping the portrait they lost any center of gravity they had had and thereby collapsed into the room. With me on top of her back. His face ended up in the hair at the base of her head. It smelled weird, in a nice way. Kind of like-no there was nothing he could think of to describe it as he had never smelled anything quite like it. Oh well, at least she cushioned his fall.

Suddenly, Tom noticed several pairs of little feet scurrying around his eyelevel. He glanced up. A knobbly little thing with long ears wearing something like a throw pillow case was looking at him with large, saucer like brown eyes.

"Is sirs and Misses. Arzoo alright?" It asked concernedly in high pitched squeaky voice. Arjuna groaned beneath him and replied for him.

"Hah, we're alright,"she said with a side to side sort of bobbing of the head.

"Misses returned rather soon, is she not satisfied? Is she needing more food?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you though! No, I'm here for my friend, he is rather hungry as he has missed lunch while he was studying in the library. Could you perhaps give him some of the left overs?" You might've guessed that she had said that she was going give them all a new wardrobe and a sack of gold for the joy the little thing exuded.

"Of course Misses! Dalmy would love to!" The little thing gushed.

As Tom ate his food, 'Thiru', as she told him to call her (but he would do no such thing) told him how she had stayed up late the night of the welcoming feast and had met one of the house elves, which was what these little things were apparently, cleaning the common room.

"Then I told him that I loved the school so far and everything seemed really nice. But that I was still a bit hungry-"

"How could you be hungry? There was so much food!" Tom said disbelievingly.

"Yes, but most of it were those steaks. I only could eat the potatoes, and the dessert, and a few other things…" Tom's confusion must have shown on his face for she then proceeded to clarify.

"I don't eat meat. I don't like the idea of killing another creature purely for my own consumption."

'Well there goes my cannibal theory,' Riddle thought.

Arjuna provided him with silence for the rest of the time so he could finish eating, preferring to pull out the book she had been reading on the train. She was now over halfway through it.

Once he was finished and had ensured his robes were spotless and devoid of crumbs, they set off together for the library. Tom realized she had left her things in the library itself but chose not to remark on that fact lest she start up a conversation with him again.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a long day. Sundays were supposed to be the one day of global reprieve, but Tom seemed to be finding none. Wizarding families proved to be…numerous. And that coming from Tom meant it was STRONGLY understated. Over the course of the two day weekend he had gone through half of the Malfoy family. That's it. Even with many generations having only a single child, the mere fact that several members broke the seemingly predominant custom and had two meant that numbers just kept increasing exponentially. And it was all for naught, for Tom found neither hide nor hair of the name Marvolo. Tom had to surmise that it was only one family and if he hadn't come across it yet, it probably wasn't going to be there. Tom had come to find a trend if not the name in question. There were about 10 names that were in circulation for Malfoy men in the family, Abraxas was there, as well as Lucius, Uther, Draco, Scorpius, and a few other celestial forms. Parents of Malfoy heritage seemed to follow a tradition of naming their sons after their esteemed forefathers. This could prove to be useful though, if it applied to other families too. If it didn't….Tom didn't think he would be tackling the Black Family Tree any time soon. If the present amount of children in the school was any indication, the Blacks were not anywhere near as conservative as the Malfoys.

Tom sighed and glanced up at the clock. 5:13 pm. Dinner was being served but Tom found that he couldn't muster up an appetite. He had finished the majority of his homework and everything due for Monday was completed. He supposed he could work on his paper for History of Magic just to get his mind on to something else for a while. So with that thought in mind, he closed the ancestry text and pushed it aside. He pulled out some parchment and began drafting an introduction for his paper which was supposed to be on the Goblin Rebellion of 1823. Tom had finally gotten a handle of using quills to his relief. Gripping the thin stem of the feather had been difficult and Tom still got his fingers smeared in ink by the end of whatever project he was working on at the time. But like anything to do with magic, Tom was determined. So he kept at it. (Though he would admit to no one that he still kept one of his old fountain pens for when he was alone and got thoroughly exasperated with the school required barn owl reject material.)

Tom got up to go find some reference books. He found that the class required text was informative but left out a lot of details. For those who looked for a passing grade, it was perfectly suitable, but Tom wanted to be above and beyond. He had a point to prove to all his pureblooded house mates after all. And quite honestly, Tom enjoyed the recognition he received from his teachers. Well, all except one. Slughorn, the potions 'master', was overly sugary at best and a pompous nincompoop at worst. But now was not the time to dwell on _him_. Tom had books to look for. After collecting an armful of promising books he proceeded back to his usual table, only to find someone there already. Tom almost dropped his books.

'Twice in one weekend? Come on!' he thought furiously. Tom tried to think of a way to get out without her seeing him, but realized he would have to leave all his things here as they were in the chair next to her. Grumbling semi-audibly, Tom stalked to the table and dropped his books aggressively onto the table. This served to earn him the attention of not only Arjuna but also of the librarian, Madame Dinkley who was less than pleased to say the least. She was rather possessive of two things on this earth and those were the text books in her library's possession and the quiet tranquility it had to offer; both of which Tom had disturbed. But Tom could not have cared less about the librarian in that moment since his attention was focused solely on the girl whose large brown eyes were now trained onto his own.

"Madame Dinkley may not care about organization, but she does rather love the books nonetheless. You should be more careful when handling them. You never know who has a Dragon Army these days," she said with her innocently lilting voice. Tom merely rolled his eyes. 'Of course you would say something like that. I mean, why not? If Dinkley disorganizing the library is a conspiracy against the world why not have her have a dragon army too?' he thought. Or at least he thought he did. Tom was more than gobsmacked when she actually seemed to be answering his question.

"Well, we _really _don't_ know_, do we? I mean what if uses the dragons to have mass book burnings? I've been noticing some of the books here have been missing. That's what led me to believe that the librarian was lazy and was slacking off on putting the books back where she found them. But then I realized that one of the books I was looking for was nowhere to be found, so I then thought that maybe she has a bad history with text and in a stroke of vindictiveness she was stealing them so she can burn them and is using the disorganization as a cover-up. So that leads me to hypothesize that she is just here to lure everyone into thinking she's this innocent librarian by day and this book serial killer by night." She was serious. She was being bloody serious. The look on her face was proof that she honestly believed every word she said. Tom looked at her incredulously and she just looked continued to look him in the eyes and blink a few times. Eventually Tom remembered why he had returned to the table in the first place, his History Paper. He sighed, sat down, began leafing through his texts, and started up an internal challenge with himself to see how long he could ignore the annoying darker skinned girl across from him. It lasted a grand total of five minutes, for when he started writing again, she started moving her chair in multiple jerks closer to him and peered over at the page. He tried to continue writing and continue to ignore, but the combination of his pet peeve of hating people reading what he wrote/read over his shoulder and the fact that she was entirely too close for his comfort severely taxed his ability to do anything, forget trying to ignore her.

"_What_ do you want? Because whatever it is, the answer is no."

"Well fine! I might have asked you to help me move my chair away, but if you want me to sit here then fine," she suavely replied. 'I hate her,' Tom thought miserably and glared at her.

"You weren't going to ask that. You know it, I know it. So, again, what do you want?"

"I was going to ask you what you're working on."

"Our history paper. Now go away."

"Ooooooh! I was going to do that too!" She then proceeded to break out a variety of quills and parchment. Tom then noticed that her quills were not the standard brown color of barn owl feathers but were a collection of neon greens, purples, oranges, and pinks. Tom growled lightly at the fact that not only his break time from research but also his solitude were going to be horribly ruined if he didn't get rid of her. Fast.

"Why do you presume to think that I actually want you around? I thought I made it abundantly clear that I wanted you leave. And I have not been encouraging any form of conversation, yet you are still here. Why?" Tom didn't mean to ask why like that, like he was actually curious for her reasoning. He had said the rest of that bit coldly, but feared that the 'why' bit he added had probably killed it.

She seemed to think hard on that. Her head cocked to one side as she peered at him. Tom could see the wheels turning in her head as she thought up a suitable response to it.

"No," She said. Then she stopped. Tom looked at her perplexed. No? He didn't ask a yes or no question. "No, you're not the most polite person I have met here, but then again, not many people here are polite when it comes to me. They always just say I'm not worthy to be in this school, let alone to talk to them. But you only shove me off because you shove everyone off. It has nothing to do with me personally." Tom seriously wanted to interject here, but thought better of it and let her continue. "And it just seems like we have a lot in common." 'I'd like to know how she figures that one.' Tom thought sardonically. Everyone underestimates us before they get to know us and they shun us based on their first impressions." She paused slightly. "And, everyone who does try to know us leaves us in the end. I think that's why you push people away. Nobody has stood by you and said 'I'm your friend and I'll stick by you no matter what'….. No one has ever really done that for me either….that's probably just the way of the world though….." she trailed off. Tom was very subdued after this reply. She may be crazy….but she read him like a book. And she seemed to be able to understand him if what she said was true.

Suddenly, the part of Tom that he had tried to stuff in the smallest corner of his mind and heart and forget it was there, the part that had been covered up in cob webs for so long, that part reared up its ugly head and came full force within him; It screamed that it wanted friends like all the other kids. That he wanted to be like those normal kids who actually play in the sun and look forward to Christmas; to have someone who understood him and to laugh with, not at. Tom was only 11 after all. He was still small, and young, and even after all the trials he had been through, he was highly impressionable. He suddenly felt very vulnerable and didn't know if he should say something or just run away. He chose neither and proceeded to sit at the table not saying anything in reply. They looked at each other briefly, where Tom nodded once rather curtly and looked back down at his work.

They worked in absolute silence till the clock above the entrance told them it was 10 minutes to curfew so they both packed up their things and proceeded to leave the library. Walking in silence for a while, Tom followed her at her side in a somewhat unspoken agreement. Soon, they reached a gargoyle of a Raven who squawked a riddle softly to Arjuna, who answered it and it hopped aside. She turned to him before entering.

"Thank you for walking me back up. No one has done that for me before." She smiled at him, wished him a good night, and went inside. Tom watched after her till the gargoyle finally hopped back into place. He stood there for a while, lost in thought before he began to head for the Slytherin Dormitory in the dungeons.

Tom found himself much more relaxed with the oddity that was Thirumala Arjuna. Perhaps it was because of the fact that she was sitting next to him in the classes they had together now. Maybe even the notes she passed to him during said classes which he pretended to be annoyed with, but secretly liked. Perhaps it was due to the homework meetings in the library from 4:00 till 6:30 and then again after dinner from 8:00 to 10:00. It could also have been the walks together back to her dormitory each night once they left the library. Maybe even because of the few nightly excursions to the kitchens after curfew for hot chocolate and some cookies sans lard that the house elves made on account of her specifically. But whatever the reason, Tom found himself oddly comfortable around her. Even with her observant statements that inevitably led to odd conclusions. She was still hell bent on the Dinkley Hypothesis, but Tom found himself not really wanting her to believe otherwise for whatever reason. And, for the first time, Tom was oddly content in a small part of himself.


	4. Chapter 4

"All right everyone! Now I want you all to stand on the left side of your broom and say 'Up'. Is that clear to everyone? And remember, don't say it too forcefully or you might hit yourself in the face with the handle bar. Alright. Now on the count of three, give it a go! One…..two…three!" Madame Hooch then blew her whistle. She was a nice enough lady. Young, spirted, and passionate about flying. However, this whole broom business was a little ridiculous.

It was the first flying lesson of the year. Well, the first real one in Thiru's mind. The rest had been the theory behind flying. What kind of spells were used on the original broom, the evolution of brooms, muggle sightings of brooms through the ages, etc. etc. etc. Hooch even covered Quidditch, the official school sport, in a little detail. It was all very nice and dandy but Thiru was dying to get up on one. Practical lessons were always her favorites.

"Whoever thought Muggles weren't making up the fact that witches ride brooms?" Tom said to her wryly. She smiled back at him.

"Up!" Arjuna whispered. The broom lay on the ground but gave flickering movement. She crinkled her eyebrows at the broom and repeated herself a little more self assured.

"UP!" The broom smoothly sailed up to her palm and she grasped it fully. Pleasure swelled up in her chest as she beamed at the little stick with bristles at the end.

'This seems rather simple. I wonder why all these people make such a big deal out of it. It can't be any more difficult than a carpet for goodness sake! Those things are so temperamental. Say the wrong thing at the wrong time and BLAM! They hate you for life. Touchy things really. These don't seem to mind being commanded too much. Maybe they really are inanimate like Tom said. Strange…..'she thought to herself. Tom had been rather excited about flying the brooms today. Well, as excited as Tom gets when in public. Which basically meant a stoic face and no hand gestures. Not even a smile. 'Those are only offered to me when no one else is there to see. It's as if he is afraid to show any emotion in front of people he doesn't know. I've tried to tell him time and again that it's ok. It's ok to be happy in front of other people. But he keeps arguing some stupid point of not wanting people to think he is weak. How is smiling a weakness? If anything, it shows strength of your facial muscles. But anyway-' and Thiru's thought process continued on for the lesson. She chanced a glance at Tom to see his progress. It wasn't very good to be sure…..actually, it seemed to be going down right awful.

"Up," he demanded. Nothing happened.

"UP!" He yelled. Nothing happened still.

"_UP_!"He yelled in a slightly sing song voice. Nada. Not even a twitch. Tom growled.

"**UP YOU STUPID STICK**!" he screamed. It came up alright. Whacked him right in between the eyes, it did. And if that wasn't enough, it decided to go down and hit his legs out from under him so he landed very hard on his bottom. Apparently, brooms DO get offended like carpets. And like carpets, they exact their own revenge on the offender.

"Uuuuuuughhhhhhhh…" Everyone in the class was laughing voraciously and even Thiru was having a hell of a time suppressing the giggle that threatened to escape. She knew Tom was going to be livid when the pain finally went away, so she wisely shoved the perpetrating laugh further down her throat and forced her grin down long enough to offer a hand to Tom. Tom stood up unsteadily, looking very much like the coyote after an especially bad run in with the roadrunner. She could practically see little brooms spinning around his head. At that she chanced a small, small grin.

"Maybe we should get you to the Infirmary so you can get a potion for that headache you're going to have," was all Thiru said on the matter. Though she was sure it hadn't escaped Tom's notice that there was a teasing gleam in her eyes. He merely glared at everyone as best as he could (He was looking slightly to the left of the offending crowd rather than directly which made him much less imposing than he had probably hoped to be) and accepted Thiru's hand. The two trudged their way back to castle with Thiru in the lead as Tom seemed very unstable right then.


	5. Chapter 5

It was November now, and that awkward phase between Halloween and Christmas had set in. The grounds of Hogwarts were smothered in the red, orange and yellow foliage that all the deciduous trees had shed in the light of winter's fast encroachment. The slight summer heat that had been present before gave way to the light autumn chill that required light sweaters and scarves.

Tom and Arjuna were taking advantage of the pleasant breeze outside and were looking through some books under a beech tree on the far side of the grounds by the lake and closest to the forest. Tom had decided to enlist her help to find out who his family was. She apparently liked this sort of thing, and after a few weeks of working with her found her to be quite helpful. The work as of late had been going twice as fast as it would have been going if it were just him. Together they had finished The Malfoy, Lestrange, Nott, Flint, Greengrass, and the Goyle families. No luck on finding Marvolo yet, but Tom had a feeling they knew more about their British pureblooded classmates then even they themselves knew. It was ironic, and Tom had a well founded respect for irony. Take him and Arjuna, two people with absolutely nothing in common on the surface, but under everything….they may have been one person in two bodies.

"OOOH! Tom, look here!" Arjuna's voice brought him out of his reverie.

"Did you find it?" Tom asked excitedly. Finally! After so many months of searching fruitlessly, finally something had been found to validate all the hard work and effort gone into it! Finally, Tom could go back to those stupid housemates of his and laugh in their face! Finally-

"No. But I did find a wizard nick-named One-Eyed Dingy!" She beamed at him and giggled. It was so anticlimactic for Tom that he just froze and looked at her. He was torn between screaming in rage and joining her in her laughter. He decided to do the later as the corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he began quietly laughing. Something he was pleased to find himself doing more as of late, but only when she was around and no one else was, like now. As the last of their chuckles died down, they returned back to their work.

Tom returned back to his thoughts as he flipped through a family tree of the Carrows. Arjuna was working on called the Gaunts.

'Rida Carrow…..married a John Lestrange…..had children but they were Lestranges, not Carrows anymore. Rida's brother Carlisle married a Parkinson… one son, Lauren. Who names their son Lauren? Only morons, that's who. Tell someone like me I'm unworthy of being in the illustrious house of Slytherin when they go and give girls names to their kids. Ha! What idiots!'

Tom really hoped they found something soon, because he was more than serious about saving the Blacks for last. Only Thiru knew how much he didn't want to get look through that one. Geez! What a mess that would be!

'Wait a minute….when did I start referring to her as Thiru? It's always been Arjuna…..'He thought to himself.

'_Maybe it's because she's starting to rub off on you…'_

Tom was a little taken aback by the voice that had presented itself. It sounded so real, like a whole other person. But it was him because he knew Thiru didn't sound like that.

"Tom, I'm a little tired. Why don't we go eat something?" Tom looked back at her. The sky was growing golden with the sunset. It was probably time for dinner anyway. And they could pick it up afterwards anyway. Tom nodded and they got up and walked across the fields toward the school. They walked through the giant double door entryway to the Great Hall and walked to their respective tables after making a quick agreement to meet in about 30 minutes. Tom sat down at a spot towards the door and began serving himself.

"Oh! Look everyone! It's the darkie loving mudblood. I never knew you actually ate human food. Don't you lot just eat mud to survive?" said some older student from down the way. Tom glanced up and glared up at him through his lashes before returning to his stew. Obviously they weren't happy with the lack of reaction.

"What? Darkie got your tongue? I bet she has at some point or another hasn't she? That's all they really are good for anyway." Some of the student's buddies laughed and clapped him on the back. It took all of Tom's self control to ignore them at that one. He hated them calling him names, but he hated them calling her names even more. And she was nothing that they were insinuating that she was. This was really trying on him, but Thiru had told him to just let it go. "They're not worth the trouble," she had said. Then she asked him if he wanted to meet her in the morning for yoga to help him calm himself. Tom had yet to take up the offer.

The student jeered at him a bit longer before they tired of their games. When they finally stopped Tom went back to his spoon…..only to find that it was completely bent. Growling, he got up and stalked out of the hall. Those dirty pigs. Thiru was not a whore.

'Just wait. Just you wait all of you! One day you will grovel to me, and you will never be able to insult me without paying the consequences. Just wait. I'll learn more spells, curses, hexes, jinxes, anything to use against you. And then you will be sorry. Then you'll-'his thought process broke off when Thiru caught up with him.

"Tom!" She exclaimed, half running down the hall towards him. He stopped and waited for her. She halted her frantic steps in front of him and looked him in the eyes. She was silent as she waited to catch her breath.

"Did they say something again?" she asked quietly. Tom exhaled through his nose sharply and looked away.

"Let's go to the kitchens. I never finished my food. And I don't feel up to working anymore tonight," Tom said.

"Sure. That stew was beef anyway. I could go for some rice right about now."

The kitchens were a comforting site for the two of them, especially Thiru to whom it meant comfort food was in store. The fire in the fireplace in the back glowed and reverberated off the stone walls. It was a little stuffy, but that was a nice change from the chill of the open hallways. House elves scurried around the place, making the large space hum with life. Tom and Thiru sat by the fireplace and enjoyed the warmth it had to offer.

"Are Misters Riddly and Misses Arzoo needing anything?" one elf asked. It was so excited it was tugging on its overly long ears. The absence of the ears from the side of its face made its eyes even more large and protuberant.

"I just want a serving of what's being served for supper," Tom said. "Not too much though."

"I would like some white rice with plain yogurt mixed in with a dash of salt. Oh! And do you have a mango at all? It's ok if you give me too much. Thank you." She offered a smile at the end of this. The elf looked at her a little funny but sure enough bowed and scurried off to get them what they asked for. She knew Tom was quite used to her….unique….*cough*odd*cough*…..choices in food. She had explained to him it was similar to some of the food she ate at home, so he thought nothing of it now. A spell of silence fell on the two children as they waited for their food.

"Tom….. do you….do you want to talk about….about…..what happened back there?" Thiru asked tentatively. Tom continued to glower at the flames as she carefully gauged his reaction. He remained silent for a long time. It was a good 5 minutes from when she had asked the question and she began wondering if he was just going to give her the silent treatment for the rest of the day. He did that sometimes, when he was especially peeved. Almost as if to spare her the ranting that was inevitable from him. She knew she tended to play the devil's advocate sometimes which caused Tom to say a few hurtful things a few times. After the third time, he stopped telling her details till he had calmed down sufficiently. He didn't like seeing her hurt after he said things she knew he never meant to say in the first place.

"Nothing more than the usual in the beginning," he whispered. "Just the usual slur on you and me." There was more to the story than this. So she kept quiet and looked at him intently. He remained silent a while longer.

"They….then…."Tom looked a little angrier now. He was flustered. He could never verbalize a thought properly when he was flustered.

"Then what happened Tom?" She asked softly, kindly; hoping to encourage him to get the next bit out. Tom gritted his teeth and took a deep breath.

"They insinuated something horrible….about…."Tom trailed off.

"Me?" Thiru asked while searching his eyes for anything that might help her figure out what had happened so Tom wouldn't have to go through the trouble of reliving it. All she found was a seething rage she had yet to see Tom go through. If there was something to say about Tom, you definitely saw the highest of the highs and the lowest of the lows. Tom was an emotional roller coaster.

"…yes…"That was all Tom seemed to be able to get out. Thiru was torn. It was probably a good idea to get this off of Tom's chest, but in his current state he might blow up, and releasing that much anger on herself was not her idea of fun. Then again, no one said the things worth living for in life were easy. And if Tom needed her, well, then so be it. Yell away Tom. Alright. Here goes. Just ask and let him have it.

"What did they….insinuate?" Thiru was inwardly cringing now. The tidal wave was going to come now. The rage and pent up emotions of him were going to flow over into this kitchen like when Shiva created the river Ganga. She braced herself for it.

"Huh?" Tom seemed sort of shocked by the question; like he had been lost in the maze that was his own mind and her voice had literally plucked him out from it and he now hung in suspension. He did that a lot too, so she repeated herself. This time she got a reaction she wasn't quite expecting; Tom's face turned almost alabaster white with the amount of blood that drained from it.

"You don't really want to know," he said shakily. She furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Of course I do. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to," she said confidently. Tom remained silent and even went so far as to look back into the fire to avoid her gaze. "Tom, they will probably say it to me at some point. I would rather hear what they will say and be ready for it. You can't protect me all the time you know," she said lightly, tried to ease up the tension Tom seemed to be feeling. But Tom didn't seem to notice. At least he seemed to agree, since he gave a small, almost indiscernible nod. He took another deep breath and tried again. Thiru had never seen him this worked up, and she had been plenty sure that she had seen just about everything by now.

"They…essentially…called you…um…they called you a…er…a…a whore," Tom finished finally. If Tom's facial expression was anything to go by, the final word tasted as horrible as one of those vial potions the Nurse kept in the infirmary.

'A whore? Why would they think that? I've never…but I suppose they know that. They just don't care…' was the main part of Thiru's thought process. She was silent for a long time. Putting her thoughts in order and trying to think through it logically.

"But you know they are completely lying! I mean of course you know and, well, I mean…._I_ know you never….um….never did, well…_that_ and I'm sure they do too. They just want to get to you. But don't let them Thiru their not worth it-" Tom tried to comfort her but she cut him off.

"I know they're not Tom…it's hurtful, to be sure…but I can't say I didn't see it coming. I know what I am…..and that's enough," she replied to him. "Let's speak of other things shall we?" She said a little more brightly after a spell of silence. Tom seemed to search her face for something, whatever it was she couldn't be sure what, but once he was seemingly satisfied, he nodded. There was a silence again. Thiru didn't like silence much, she decided to break it with a topic neither had decided to broach before.

"Tell me about your family. I know you live in the orphanage in the summers now, but do you remember your parents at all?" The minute she asked she wished she could take it back. Tom squirmed slightly in spot and suddenly developed an itch behind his neck. He looked to be having a mental debate match going on in his head. One side won apparently.

"No. Not really….I never knew my father. The nuns at the orphanage say my mother died shortly after naming me….I've never had siblings. So I basically have no one." He looked awkwardly around the room, anywhere but at her. He seemed to be rolling in shame from what she could see, but what could he possibly have to be ashamed about? 'Well, there's something else we have in common…" She thought forlornly.

"I don't really have anyone either….I used to live in India with my family in our ancestral home. But…I never agreed with the elders about…. the _customs_ of our household. I refused to take part in it. Any of it. Eventually, the elders said I was a disgrace to the family and put me in exile."

"They disowned you?" Tom asked curiously.

"Not exactly. My clan believes that parents who bring young into the world have to care for it till it can care for itself. They just refuse to acknowledge that I am a part of the family too. So they sent me far away and gave me a manservant to care for me till I come of age, and they send money. But I have been told to never return to the house again. They just don't want to remember I exist until they send some gold for their overseas child. Which is what I suspect they tell the others of the community; that I have gone overseas for higher education," Thiru was beginning to feel a little melancholy with the memories, but she felt like she owed it Tom after he had shared his past with her.

"Well, at least you're taken care of… I suppose. So this…manservant. What does he do?" Tom asked.

"Oh, well he's like a nanny I suppose. He's my cook, driver, butler and does whatever else needs to be done to keep the flat running. He's been with me since infancy. He also takes care of Amar," Thiru said offhandedly.

"Amar?" Tom asked wish a piqued eyebrow.

"Haven't I told you about Amar?" Thiru wondered incredulously. At Tom's blank look she figured the topic had not been broached quite yet. "Well, one of the traditions of my family that I did observe was the Bonding Ceremony. That's when a new born of the Arjuna clan has their soul bonded to a new born tiger cub. My family's ancestral house is on the outskirts of the forests on the east coast of India. Our family has guarded the tigers there for many centuries. Amar is my bonded."

"That's really fascinating…do all the tigers 'bond' then?" Tom asked, now fully engrossed in their topic.

"All the young of my family bond, but not all the tigers get bonded. There has to be matching of the souls based on the positions of the moon and stars. Sort of like the way they do for arranged marriages. Once the horoscopes have been identified as a match, the families of both the young come together to see if the young get along together. If they do, then both sets of parents set up the date for the ritual on an auspicious day."

"You talk as if the tigers…are active members in this."

"They are. My family was gifted with the ability to communicate with them when they were named their guardians."

"Who gave them such powers?" Tom was completely enthralled with the direction the conversation had taken. And, being Tom, he wanted to know whatever he could about it. That's one thing Thiru had in common with him. Thirst for knowledge.

"Well, most say it is just legend, but it is said that our ancestor for which we are named, Arjuna, was gifted these rights by Lord Krishna. But I should probably give you some back story for it to make sense.

"You see, there was a dispute about to whom the crown would go to as there were two brothers. The older brother was blind so the other took over temporarily during an earlier war. But he never gave the throne back. When came time to think of who the crown was to go in the next generation, the blind brother wanted to give it to his oldest son, Duryodhan. Duryodhan had good attributes, but he was selfish from being the favorite of his parents. But the blind king wanted it to be so and to ensure this, he banished his brother and his two wives to the forest. While living in the forest, the king died. The wives were so angry with the blind king that they wanted revenge. The first wife had been given a boon as a child so she used it to pray to various gods to be gifted with warriors for sons. The first wife had 3 sons. One of which was Arjuna. The second wife had 2 sons. They became the Pandavas.

"When the children grew enough, they went to fight for their crown. The tigers had become friends with them and so they too fought alongside the Pandavas in the battle, though their part was left out of the official records. When the battle was won, Arjuna was so grateful, that he named all his descendents from his second wife, Kalli, as guardians of the forest to protect the tigers from anything trying to harm them and Lord Krishna gave Kalli and her children the ability to communicate with the tigers. Of course his second wife was also not in the records, so that's why so many people call it legend. Anyway, shortly after that the concept of bonding came into effect. The tigers and Arjuna's are good friends, and the tigers consider it a great honor to be bound to one of us."

"But don't the tigers have shorter lives than humans?" Tom soon asked.

"No, the tigers that are bound to use were chosen by the young in question because of compatibility of their magical cores. These are not ordinary tigers, they have some magical ability. Once the young and the tiger have bonded, the cub's longevity increases proportionally to that of the young's. The tiger and the young are then paired for life and are together always. So when I was exiled, Amar came with me."

"So, this Lord Krishna, is he some kind of wizard? Like Merlin?" Tom asked. 'Uh oh. I see where this is going now.' Thiru thought. Tom was always on the look out for ways to increase his power. He had a very big grudge on his housemates and constantly wanted to show them up. This was partly the reason Thiru never questioned his getting into Slytherin. 'I better nip this right in the bud.'

"Well, that's also part of the reason people say the whole story is a myth. Lord Krishna in Hindu scriptures was actually the reincarnation of Vishnu. Vishnu is said to be the creator of the universe. Actually, one of my favorite stories of Krishna is when he is a child and his mother caught him stealing ghee, that's like butter, and eating it. So she asked him to open his mouth, but when he did, his mother saw the universe in his mouth. Anyway, I'm getting off track, Krishna was essentially a god. Many people in India, muggles and wizards, worship him. He was no wizard though."

Tom was quiet for a while, just taking in all the information presented to him. Thiru noticed that their food had been left in front of them a while ago as it was no longer warm. She recited a quick heating charm they had learned in class on both the dishes.

"You better eat Tom. It'll get cold again."

Tom picked up his stew and started spooning it up to his mouth, though from the look on his face, Thiru doubted any of it was actually tasted before he pushed it down his throat.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: I'm so sorry this is so late! Almost a year ( My only excuse is that i got a really bad case of writer's block, and then I started my last year of med school and things have gotten a little out of hand. But still, no excuse. I promise i haven't abandoned this story. Just bear with me, whoever is still reading this.

Again, so, so sorry!

Chapter 6

It was a bright and sunny Monday morning, despite the chill that had set in outside. The wind blew lightly, and the birds that had yet to migrate were chirping happily. Even the squid seemed to be in good spirits as it swung its large-tentacles around the water's surface. All of this happiness was in juxtaposition to Tom Riddle's mood. Sleep deprived and feeling sluggish was not how Tom liked to start his day. In fact, he refused to get out of bed for a good five minutes.

It had been two weeks since Thiru had told him that story, and though it had created more questions than it answered, he couldn't get one thing out his mind. She had said she could communicate with tigers. Well Tom knew he could talk to snakes. Had his family been 'gifted' too? And did this mean he was indeed from a wizarding family, possibly one with honors? Did the library have any families on record with a trait passed down to enable heirs to speak to snakes? He thought he had read something about it somewhere, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. Tom had been trying and failing to answer all of these questions and more.

'Maybe it's time get reinforcements. I should probably ask Thiru if she knows anything about it.'

The sun was beginning to peak out from behind the mountains, unbeknownst to the Slytherin boys. Meanwhile, the alarms next to said boys started to go off. Tom took this as a cue to casually slip off the bed and get into the bathroom before the others could get their palms over the snooze buttons, or in Goyle's case, hurl it so hard across the room it hit Nott's bed post and broke into small parts and pieces on the floor. Tom had gotten used to ducking by now.

"Blas'e all! Why we needa –" yaaaawwwwwn-"ge'up so bloody early?" Zabini slurred from his bed. A few more grumbles of profanities these boys wouldn't dare utter at home came forth before Tom made it over to bathroom and shut the door behind him. Washing his face, he looked up at himself in the mirror over the sink. Cerulean blue eyes looked back at him and his slightly mussed up wavy black hair stuck up at a few odd angles. He observed the rounded chin, jaw and cheekbones that would sharpen as he got older. He was a good looking boy even if he said so himself. Did he look like his mother? Or maybe his father? A mix of both? He vaguely imagined what they might have looked like for a while before he shook his head and with that cleared out the ridiculous notion altogether. With that thought he stepped into the shower and washed up for the day. After toweling off, he realized he had forgotten to bring his uniform with him this morning.

'And with all the time I spent wasting my time on….stupid ideas, everyone is bound to be up and about. I am NOT going out of there in a towel, no matter how wonderful Zabini thinks he looks when he does. So now what….god I wish they taught us that blasted summoning charm already! Why didn't I read it on my own! Damn it! Well, no one is going to get my uniform for me. And I can't stay in here forever. Crabbe and Goyle can-no-will break the door down if I stay in here much longer….oh bugger…fine I will go out there and pretend I'm not horrified with myself. That I don't care what they think. God! How does Thiru do this? How does she not let what they say bother her? Ok. Here I go.' Tightening the towel around his middle, Tom opened the door reluctantly and stepped out. He had hoped they'd pretend nothing unusual had happened. But like with most things in his life, Tom wasn't so lucky.

"Oh Merlin! Look who thinks no end of himself!' Malfoy sneered. Zabini and Nott wolf whistled and the rest of the boys snickered heartily. On the exterior Tom stood tall and walked to his trunk without so much a wince. His interior was another matter all together. Tom could feel his shame clawing his innards out slowly.

"Scrawny little nothing you are. You have to have something to actually show before you pull something like that Mudblood." Flint spat at him with a feral grin. Tom pretended the comment hadn't stung like a particularly nasty horsefly bite to the more tender areas of one's body and went on with trying to dress without letting anything else show. He was marginally successful till one of the boys decided to steal the towel all together. By then he was just missing his shirt so it wasn't anything they hadn't seen already this morning. He combed back his hair, straightened his tie and left the dorms as quickly as he could without actually running.

"Something to show my foot! What has Zabini got that I don't. Morons! The whole lot of them!" Tom fumed as he went down to the Great Hall. He was rather early as usual. Not many people were up at this hour, forget fully dressed and with their books. Even Thiru wasn't there yet, but that was normal. She preferred staying up late and sleeping in as much as possible. Of course, this inevitably led to her getting shorted on sleep, but that never affected her mood much. She was always just as happy and bouncy as she seemed to be by nature.

Tom continued to brood over the verbal melee the boys had sprung on him this morning. Oh boy, would he show them. He would find out he was related to some really powerful family and they would have to take back everything they had ever said to him. Tom smiled in spite of himself at the thought.

"It's nice to see you in a good mood Tom. You seem to be happier as of late," said a voice from behind Tom. Tom whirled around to see the wizened old face of none other than Professor Dumbledore himself. 'What on earth compelled him to come over here now?' Tom thought ruefully.

"Good morning sir. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Tom said carefully. Dumbledore's pale blue eyes weren't sparkling the way they usually did. But they caught Tom's attention none the less.

"Well, I found myself running low on my supply of lemon drops last night, so I had to wake early this morning to put in an order. It is unusual for students to be up and ready by this hour. You are having no troubles with anything here at Hogwarts, right Tom?"

'Don't roll your eyes, don't roll your eyes….'Tom mentally chanted.

"Of course, sir. Everything at Hogwarts has been exemplary. I have no complaints at the moment. If I do in the future, I will most definetly come to you though. Of that you can be sure." Tom said with a forced smile. Dumbledore didn't look fooled the way the other teachers would have been. In fact, he didn't look anything. He just searched Tom's eyes as if he could find the lie in them, like he could read them. 'God, I wish he would just go. I need to go to the library and finish that research of the Guants with Thiru.' But Dumbledore didn't leave, and Tom started to feel very uncomfortable.

"You know, Tom. Someone wise once told me it doesn't do to dwell on dreams, you might just forget yourself." Dumbledore finally replied, still looking into Tom's eyes.

"TOM!" someone yelled from across the hall. Tom's gaze broke off his staring contest he had unwittingly engaged in with the one person in Hogwarts who was jumping up by leaps and bounds on his people-I-don't-like-list. Thiru was jumping up and down on the balls of her feet and waving over to him. "Tom, come here!'

Grateful for the distraction, Tom got up quickly and all but dashed to her with a small goodbye to the professor who looked slightly miffed at their interrupted conversation.

"You have no idea what kind of perfect timing you have! Why are you up so early?" Tom said with a 100 watt smile.

"Oh. Well, getting up early requires going to bed first. And I was up all night," upon seeing the slight panic on his face she quickly added," but don't worry. I'm not going to be hyperactive and bouncing off the walls like last time. I didn't have breakfast so no sugar intake." Tom still seemed dubious but Thiru was apparently having none of it. The ever patient one then proceeded to award him with one of her rare eye rolls while simultaneously dragging him by the wrist. "Ayo Rama! Just follow me, man! I have to show you this! I made a breakthrough on the Gaunt tree! There is a Marvolo Gaunt in one of the last few generations. Possibly your grandfather if I'm correct in my thinking." She no longer had to drag him. In fact, the roles reversed and Tom was dragging her now, towards the library.

Marvolo Gaunt. _Marvolo Gaunt_. There it was. After months of searching, there it was penned in all its black, inky, calligraphic glory. Tom stared at it wide eyed and semi slack-jawed in awe.

"That's not all!" Thiru exclaimed happily. Her finger slid up the yellowed parchment of the familial flow chart detailing the Gaunt family until the last name changed to-

'No… it can't be…'Tom thought to himself. Completely in denial at the letter spelled out in front of him. It was impossible surely? For what greater irony is there for Tom, the supposed mudblood, to be descended from the epitome of his house? The quintessence of Slytherin. For down of the page was boldly printed:

Salazar Slytherin

But it must be. It explained everything. The thirst for power, respect and fear from him peers. For revenge on those who wronged him. The cunning, devious ways he schemed up that other, _average, _people would never _dream_ of… the parseltongue. Of course, the parseltongue! No wonder it all seemed so familiar! He had read a segment on Slytherin in Hogwarts: a History that mentioned his ability in passing. Why had he not paid more attention to that? Oh yes, he was trying to avoid being Thiru's lunch on the train.

"Tom, see here? Marvolo had two children. One boy and one girl; Morfin and Merope. Merope could be your mother! The timing is spot on!" Thiru was bouncing on the balls of her feet again. Not unlike an eager puppy awaiting praise and a treat for rolling over.

Tom stared and stared at the piece of paper in the book. Merope. That had been his mother's name. He was sure of it; it was one of the things that lousy prison otherwise known as an orphanage had given him information about. Looking back up a few lines he realized that he most likely had relatives, an uncle and potentially a grandfather. Had they known about him? Why hadn't they come to take him when his mother died? Did they even know she was dead? There was no name as to who his mother married, and certainly no name for him, her child. Unfortunately, this opened up more questions than answered.

But it was a start.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey all! Merry Christmas! Belatedly, but still. I just wanted to get another chapter out and realized that this was the perfect time for season appropriate installment. Hope you like it, not too much plot- few little things that will; help move the story along towards the end though. Take care everyone! And Happy New Year ahead of time. :)

Chapter 7

"Eat this!" Thiru pushed a plate full of something fried and savory under his nose. It looked like a giant tumble weed. The clock had struck four just ten minutes prior.

"They are onion pieces battered and fried. Its good, try it. Here's some tea too." He looked from the plate to the girl in flouncing back into the kitchen dubiously, before poking at the tangled up strands.

Tom had been dissuaded from staying at the castle for the holidays, much to his chagrin. He would've have liked to stay and do more research into the newly discovered family ties he had found for himself. However, Thiru was nothing if not persistent about him taking a holiday and he found he was somewhat curious to meet this Amar fellow of hers. Said tiger was currently lounging quite lazily, yet still maintaining a rather intimidating figure, in front of the fire, watching him reproachfully and flicking his tail occasionally. It hadn't been a meeting of friends upon first sight to say the least. The tiger seemed incredibly weary of him, and had initially even gone so far as to try to bite his arm off until Thiru had made some strange growls and noises in the back of her throat which apparently meant something along the lines of 'He's a guest. We don't eat guests!'. Since then, there had been a very stony civility kept in place, seemingly purely for Thiru's benefit.

In spite of the recovery efforts the muggle government had tried to put into effect, unemployment seemed to be on the rise again, and the vast majority was still struggling to make ends meet. Thiru's family didn't seem to be suffering that same fate however, as the 'town home' itself was rather grand. It had a simple three bedroom layout, with a modest kitchen and good sized drawing room, where Tom was situated at the moment, with full length windows overlooking the Thames on the far side of the room and books lining the majority of the twelve foot tall walls, with the exception of the fireplace with Persian rugs, stuffy airmchairs, a coffee table and a radio situated around it. One spiral staircase led up to the balcony hallway to the bedrooms. Thiru explained that it had belonged to a professor before she arrived, and that he had had to sell it in a hurry since he had a cash flow problem. Modern-day euphemism for degenerate gambler.

Tom was currently flipping through one of the many books in the room. Many were muggle texts, fiction and non-fiction alike, but Tom was pleasantly surprised to find an abundance of wizarding texts that Thiru had accumulated. Some were from India, but many were from excursions to Diagon Alley. The one he had in hand was one on Indian Black Magic and Practical 'Evil Eye' for the beginner pupil. There were some interesting things that could be done, particularly to muggles which western magic didn't have much written word on; like creating bad luck for a multitude of years at a time upon a desired person, or even enchanting illness over an enemy which would end up simulating something like plague, but which doctors would be unable to cure. This magic was tailored for non-magical people in certain aspects. Tom wasn't entirely sure when or if he's be able to use it at all, but it was fascinating all the same. Frustratingly, however, he wasn't able how to discern how to accomplish any of the above mentioned spells since none of the Sanskrit directions he had painstakingly had to transfigure translations for (a seventh year spell he was very pleased to have mastered) had mentioned the use of wand at all.

The smell of fresh gingerbread drew him from his pensive moorings. Dev was dressed impeccably in a white and red sort of tunic and pant combination, the pants were long enough to be scrunched up a bit by the ankle like anklets, churi, as Thiru has called them. The plate of cookies was placed on the coffee table next to the half drunken cup of tea and empty plate of tumbleweed. He left unceremoniously back to the kitchen where Thiru was undoubtedly gorging on home cooked food while she still could. Thiru had (or rather made Dev before their arrival) go to great lengths to decorate in traditional Christmas fashion despite the fact that she didn't celebrate. There was a grand tree in the corner with floating candles and holly and popcorn strings, and candy canes. Garlands of green pine needles twisted with silver ribbon spruced up the fireplace and the doorways. Traditional holiday foods were also being prepared for him, apparently in response to the horror Thiru felt when he explained how holidays had been spent in the orphanage.

Thiru finally flounced in around quarter to five, looking decidedly like the cat that caught the canary; Lots of gorging then. Dev was sure to be 'pleased' that his preparations for dinner would be somewhat short. She dropped herself into the other armchair opposite him and smiled contentedly when Amar all but climbed up into her lap like a one of the royal corgis. The oversized lump of fur all but covered any discernible feature of Thiru even being in the chair except for a pair of feet.

Christmas was in three days and Tom had yet to decide if he wanted to give Thiru something. Well, he figured he should what with him staying in her home for break, but also, he sort of wanted to give her something. She was his first friend, and even though he would never, ever, ever say anything to that effect, it was true and he wanted to give his thanks. He had been thinking and nothing had been coming to mind at all. It should be something personal and thoughtful, nothing he could buy off the shelf with the limited pocket money afforded to him by the school as part of his scholarship. Which led him to the conundrum he was in now: What do you give a rather eccentric, though clever, girl? As far as he knew, girls liked things that were completely impractical; shiny things that nothing but adorn; floral arrangements that died in a week; candy that added to your waistline. This was why he was, even now, under the impression that girls themselves were an impractical waste of time. Thiru didn't like all those things, and if Tom didn't know better, he would say she leaned more towards being a boy than a girl. But rather than make this easier, it made it somewhat more difficult. It couldn't be stereotypically feminine, nor would it do for it to be something Tom would not mind receiving himself.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Thiru interrupted Tom's thought process. Her face was just visible above a softly purring bundle of orange and black stripes.

"Oh nothing," Tom replied. I could ask her if she needs or wants something in particular. But then that sets up expectations and if I don't figure something out…..on second thought, maybe not…

"I was merely wondering if you are going to be able to dine with me tonight. After all the time you spent in the kitchen I imagine anyone else may opt out," Tom joked. Thiru grinned in response.

"Don't you worry! You shan't be lonely for supper!" She giggled back. 

Dev was predictably upset at the rather impressive fraction of dinner missing from the serving dished before they even managed to make it to the table, but the meal was delightful and the conversation was sparkling, interspersed with giggling and intellectual debates with undertones of a warmth Tom hadn't felt in as long as he could remember. They were sitting around the fire again, snow gently falling outside, and radio regaling them with the news for the day. So far things on the Western front in Europe seemed to be peaceful, but Tom knew people like Hitler. He could identify with his plight as well. Germany had been abandoned by family and allies alike to fend for themselves. People like Hitler were looking for power, and agreements to voluntarily stop that effort to procure it were means to allay suspicion till such a time as it could be taken successfully. It was only a matter of time. As for now, tensions were high and the smell of gunpowder had overtaken streets as the factories began to produce a stockpile of weapons ammunition in an unspoken backup plan. Meanwhile, revolutionaries in India were making small headway in their protests of British rule, though since the beginning of Gandhi's non-violent protests and partially in light of his English acquired education, British people were beginning to feel somewhat less hostile toward the colonist's plight.

"It'll be lonely without you this summer," Thiru said softly, looking determinedly at the fire and stroking Amar the lap cat's head. Tom didn't say anything, but he also didn't sneer at the sentiment. In truth, he knew he would miss her as well. Dumbledore had worked out an arrangement with the orphanage that he could continue to stay there if he returned in the summers. The orphanage didn't seem to mind terribly much as it meant extra funds from the government for a mouth to feed that wouldn't be present most of the year, but it meant that he would have to reside there for three months, and be present for the annual government conducted inspection. Three months without the only friend he had. In his mind, it was tantamount to cruel and unusual torture.

But- it did give him an idea.

It was a perfect, story-book Christmas morning rose bright with sun on new virgin snow. Tom had been up all night, so he could testify that Santa didn't exist or at the very least, hadn't bothered to visit this particular town home. He had spent the last few days being very surreptitious in his dealings, sneaking out of the town home to purchase the required items, and hours upon hours had been spent pouring over tomes to come to a finished product that was at least passable as a gift. Tired and more than a little pleased at the final outcome, though still slightly worried if it would be appreciated, he finished the wrappings on the box. Simple brown paper and red string, but it would have to do.

He came down the steps and kept the gift under the tree as per custom, not that he was anymore an expert on Christmas gifts or Christmas traditions than Thiru herself, having only received a marginally better meals on Christmas and watching other small, cute children get adopted by cliché families who thought it would be quaint to gift a child with a home on the day of giving.

He then noticed another package a little bit away from the tree. Curiosity piqued, he looked at the delicate doily tag and saw on it, in slightly looped block letting- To Tom, My Dear Friend. Tom bit his lip while a small gush of excitement bubbled up in him, and he suddenly understood what it was the other children felt when they woke up on Christmas morning to open presents.

"Happy Christmas Tom!" Thiru greeted from the stairs groggily. Her usual wavy curls were a bit of birds nest; clearly she had not taken the appropriate measures to tame it yet. Tom couldn't care less as he uncharacteristically wished her the same before dashing up to grab her wrist and haul her downstairs to the kitchen where the smell of eggs and fresh bread were wafting from. The kitchen table was decorated with a lace cover and centerpiece of poinsettias, holly and small gold painted branches. So much food! Scrambled eggs, toast, fresh butter, baked beans, French crepes with fresh fruits, juice, hot cocoa, even a plate of beacon for Tom; Dev, had gone all out apparently. 

Full to point he was sure his stomach would explode, Tom made his way (somehow) to the drawing room with Thiru and Amar in tow while Dev cleaned up the kitchen, yet another cup of hot cocoa in hand. As soon he sat, Thiru shoved her present for him under his nose.

"Happy Christmas, Tom," she wished again uncharacteristically soft. As much as he wanted to rip the paper open, he wanted to savor this moment, not sure when he would get another like it. He opened the paper carefully, not tearing it beyond recognition, and kept the doily tag safely to the side. Inside the paper was a book whose title read _The Life and History of Salazar Slytherin: The Unsung Founder of Hogwarts_. Tom smiled softly at the gesture and thoughtfulness of the gift. Where had she found it? And more importantly, how did he not notice her sneak away to get it?

"I was confused as to what you have been doing lately. You've been keeping to yourself for days and snarl if I so much as peek into your room. It did give me time to go out without you noticing though."

It was a good gift. One with more details in one place than going around checking multiple books to get the same details worded differently and offering no further insight into the matter. It was a practical gift, and Tom was one to always appreciate practicality.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. Thiru smiled warmly and through her arms around his neck before pulling him close. Startled at first, he balked, but not enough to pull away. After the initial shock, however, he found it cause a rush of warmth through him. It was his first hug. He had though these to be superfluous as well, but he could perhaps bring himself to tolerate them, he thought to himself as he patted her on the back semi-awkwardly. Thiru didn't seem to mind too much though, when she broke away she was still smiling.

"I was worried you wouldn't like it!" She exclaimed.

"I do like it," Tom said with a grin. "I hope you like yours," he continued tentatively while handing her gift to her with suddenly reluctant hands. Tom watched in anticipation as she pulled the paper back with less care than he had, and opened the box.

She pulled out a pair of antiquated hand mirrors. They were sisters, both with polished, but still somewhat tarnished silver frames and handles. Delicate filigree work adorned the metal all the way around the oval mirrors and down into the handle. They were fairly heavy when Tom had purchased them, but that was nothing a few spells couldn't take care of.

"It's a two-way mirror, one is for you and one is for me," Tom explained, gently taking one from her. "You just look into the mirror and tell it my name, and you and I can talk as much as we want over the summer. I also thought it could help when we have to go to our respective dormitories after curfew." Thiru was in awe and he demonstrated by saying her name and seeing his face appear in the mirror.

"How…" she said weakly.

"A few spells. Mostly ones we haven't been taught yet," Tom said simply. He didn't mention that he had scoured about half of her library and all of his to compile the 16 charms spells required to make the calling function work; some used in a not as indicated use, but manipulated with another spell to bolster it; as could be exemplified with the bonding spell creating the link for the Projection charm to forward the reflection. Then there had to be spell to prevent the superimposition of the images. He even added a shatter-free charm that would require refreshers every few months and a simple dust away charm to keep it clean more or less. But he explained what were all the spells and charms and even the one transfiguration (a small blue ring of light made around the rim of the glass from the glue binding it to indicate a call coming through) that he had used to create it. Being the Ravenclaw she was, he knew that she would appreciate the craftsmanship.

Tom got his second hug that day too.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Oh my god, I am so sorry for all the reposts for the whole story! I was trying to update chapter 1 with a new timeframe and I ended up deleting the chapter! So embarrassing! I really need to learn how to use this website properly! This took a little longer than I had planned to, so sorry about that. Little more plot in this chapter, so hope you guys like it! I'm happy to say Chapter 9 is already underway as well. Cheers!

* * *

><p>Chapter 8<p>

Crisp winter air whipped against Tom's face with enough force to make tears stream from his eyes and down his cold induced, rosy cheeks. Thiru wasn't faring any better as far as he could tell, both were up to their knees in snow and, as luck would have it, their designated path was right into the frosty jetstream.

New Year's had come and gone with no little amount of fanfare, but now that it was post holiday season, it was time to finally get back to business. And that meant school supplies. But for now, Thiru and Tom were on their way to the bookstore where she had procured the admiringly dilapidated tome for his gift. Surprisingly, it wasn't Flourish and Blotts (which Tom thought she should have VIP customer status to), but was from a small store in a side alley off of Diagon. Something called Knockturn Alley.

The Leaky Cauldron was teeming with life, arguably low lives, if you asked for Tom's opinion. Butterbeer and beverages stronger than that were flowing freely and the waitresses couldn't possibly be warm in their current low necked dresses. The stench of alcohol and sweat had settled like a blanket over the pub, suffocating enough that Tom wished for the whipping, winter wind again. Both were dressed in muggle attire to blend in while in muggle London, Dev, ever watchful, was not too far behind. Tom thought Thiru looked rather fetching in her aubergine button up dress and high necked, black lace collar; much too high class to be among such ruffians. He offered his arm as a gentleman should and pushed through the crowd first, sneering at distasteful, impudent, wastes of space that happened to get in his way with their holiday merriment. Drunken slobs fell over eachother as a small shove from an eleven year old boy, who was much too small for his age, proved how far gone the men were even at this early hour. Tom, the innkeeper's son was manning the bar at the moment, and nodded when he saw Tom passing through.

The back of the pub was mildly better, though the garbage receptacles were slightly overflowing; it looked like someone had been denying their vanishing spell duty. Once the proper sequence of taps on the brick wall was complete, the bricks moved out of the way, and the first glimpse of the promise of a better life Tom had ever seen, appeared before him again. Post-Holiday sales were a big deal even in the wizarding world it seemed. Multicolored robed figures dashed from place to place; a monotonous buzz of voices haggling, discussing, laughing; shop windows with impossible window displays; cobblestones ways now covered with snow. Tom had rather thought the amazement might have died down a bit since his first viewing of the place, but he found it had not. Not in the slightest. The two children agreed to stop in Florean Fortescue's for something new called a hot chocolate milkshake. Cold when you first sipped it, but drank hot once you swallowed. Perfect for those who were overheated from the rushing between stores, but desired something hot to fight the chill outside. Only problem was, some people seemed to be burning their tongue if they held in their mouth too long; as evidenced by the freckled carrot top running around while his equally flaming haired mother was trying to hand him a glass of water.

'Must be Weasley's' Tom thought absently while he sipped his own drink. 'Ridiculous, the whole lot of them.' He smirked while Thiru giggled lightly watching the boy's antics.

'_But pureblooded…' _a hateful, and rather unhelpful voice hissed to him.

'Wizards and their precious pure blood. Just wait till the boys get a load of this.' Tom thought gleefully.

Tom and Thiru disposed of their cups shortly thereafter and moved with all due haste towards the left side of the alley, where Tom was just now noticing a small passageway between two shops that continued on into the shadows; Nearly invisible to anyone who hadn't been looking for it. Some point of time between Thiru instructing Dev to remain in Diagon Alley (claiming him to be too conspicuous to be taken with), and lifting the hood on her cloak before hiking up her skirts a little as they descended down a set of brick steps, was when Tom suddenly got a doubt. Was this the safest place to be? Especially without very large and imposing Dev with them? But Tom would rather have the flesh seared off his bones with a hot iron than seem like a coward, so he said nothing and followed the girl in front of him.

The 'alley' was more of a back-alley than a street itself. It looked almost like the shops had been enchanted to fit in the confined space. (They probably had been.) Dingy looking widow displays and shady, even dirty, looking shopkeepers and customers loitered around and cast indiscernible looks their way. Tom would even hazard to say their gaze was quasi-predatory. Tom was growing rather apprehensive of a witch (or was it a hag?) ambling towards them when Thiru grabbed his elbow and ushered him into one of the shops rather abruptly.

"We're here," she stated placidly. So unusual from her normal, chipper self. She didn't lower the hood on her cloak however. Tom's gaze was taken but the oddities among the shelves and table tops. Shrunken heads, grimy bottles with strange contents, a few caskets against the wall, cupboards and cabinets were scattered around, and glass cases-containing what appeared to be antique jewelry not even cleared of the dust on them-created a three sided box around a back doorway. A few bookshelves with dusty old tomes, some rather dilapidated were pushed up along the remaining wall space. It was a small shop, but Tom instinctively knew it wasn't the size but the content that mattered in this case. This shop would be important to him. Thiru began conversing quietly with a shop keeper in the back, low enough that Tom couldn't quite make out what she was saying and thus decided to look around the shop.

It was a Slytherin's treasure trove! The shop consisted, almost in its entirety, of objects with dubious backgrounds and questionably legal. Tom had never seen anything like it, and he loved it. He was browsing through a tome on ancient relics and runes, when he heard the dialogue between the other two inhabitants escalate in sound.

"We had agreed upon this much earlier, Mr. Burke. Quite frankly, I am appalled that a man of your particular…trade, which already has a rather dubious nature, would voluntarily stoop to such levels and place your reputation, and by default, that of your _establishment_, at jeopardy!"

"Perhaps my reputation would be better served if the object were to fetch a better price," the salesman replies silkily. The volumes had dialed back down to a low hush, but Tom was keenly listening in now. It wasn't every day, or rather any day, that he got to see his friend so worked up.

"I can hardly imagine anyone being able to offer a better price," Thiru retorted, almost sulkily.

"Girl, there are families in this world with _far _more resources than you, and _quite frankly,_ they also happen to be the more reputable customers I favor. Now, either you can buy something, or you can show yourself out. I should hope you remember the way…" Burke trailed off with a cocky eyebrow aimed at Thiru. She exhaled forcefully through her nose and gracefully came (stomped) her way to Tom who quickly returned to his book and assumed an innocuous expression.

"Did you need something?" she asked curtly.

"Nothing in particular," Tom answered coolly back.

"Then let us disperse, I find the current company rather uncouth for my sensibilities." And with that she began to swiftly exit the door and retrace their steps back to the brick stairs. As Tom _hastened_, not ran, after her, he noticed several of the rather eerie looking fellows they passed by on the way in back away slightly from his female companion. Determined steps lead them back into Diagon Alley, where Thiru's only words for the remaining time on the outing had been a gritted out "Flourish and Blotts" to Dev, before they moved on to restock thier supplies.

Tom had been able to glean that Burke had agreed to sell some sort of necklace to Thiru, but when she had come to make the payment, was told it had been sold to another customer for a higher price. Of course, it became significantly clearer toward the end of the discussion, said customer was of higher social standing as well. Tom was entirely sympathetic to her rage at the clerk after hearing that, but any further information flow had been blocked by Thiru's apparent reticence to speak in volumes less than that which would achieve a transient state of conductive deafness for Tom. So he had, wisely in his opinion, decided to wait till a later date to inquire again.

It was by the fireplace later that night, after the evening meal had been served and Thiru had retired early to bed still subtly enraged from that afternoon, that Tom began having some doubts.

How did someone so obviously (or perhaps it was just outwardly) benign in countenance and behavior, seem to have such a penchant for things of a less than fully moral nature? How did she know of that store? And why had he not seen this side of her? This whirlstorm of a girl saturated with righteous anger, where had this come from? She was never like this with the other school children, at least not as far as Tom had seen, and they spent most of their time together.

With another cup of cocoa on the side stand, and his Christmas present in his lap, he happily browsed through the more little known facts of Slytherin's life. At the moment, the topic was about his ability for parseltongue, and the fact that it was believed to be inheritable. Some of his well loved possessions were described toward the back of the book as well, including a family crested ring, a beloved pet serpent- some sort of Python from what Tom would suppose was probably Africa or India, and, what sounded from the description to be, a rather lovely locket.

The break would be over in a few days time. Tom loathed to go back to the cold, impersonal Slytherin dormitory after being free to be himself for a glorious two weeks. But it did mean that he would have access to the school library again. And he would have another chance to flaunt his newly found, high class heritage to those unworthy dorm mates. Though he still wasn't clear how an opportunity like that would come around. More likely that he would have to engineer and orchestrate an environment and situation with the right parameters for such a revelation. It was going to have to be subtle…

Tom finally glanced up at the clock as it tolled midnight. It was late and he needed sleep. With that thought, he closed the tome and placed it gingerly on the table next to the drained mug of milk, absentmindedly stroking it tenderly before he blearily made his way up the stairs and up to his bed. It had been a good holiday, all arguments with surly clerks aside.


	9. Chapter 9

School was back in full swing after their arrival. Tom and Thiru were both excelling in every class. Teachers seemed to be inordinately fond of him, as he noticed. And Tom decided that was probably to his favor to let them continue to be under their notions that he was an exceedingly bright, impeccably polite and chivalrous gentleman.

Things had even improved with his dorm mate situation. Tom's opportunity to declare his birth right to his Slytherin dorm mates came later into March. There had been a disagreement of sorts between two fifth year boys and an impromptu duel had ensued. With the surprising lack of professors or members of other houses in this part of the school (so close to the dungeons), Tom decided to diffuse the escalating drama with his newly acquired hex, _Serpensortia_. The well practiced wrist movements produced the expected brown krait, and unsurprisingly, the boys stopped fighting in order to save their own skin. It was at this point Tom had the brilliant idea to use his parseltongue to talk the hissing creature down rather than simply banishing it. It had the intended effect. Suffice it to say, in a day's time, all Slytherins were giving him a slightly wider birth and the disgusted looks had been replaced with expressions ranging from slightly wary to outright fright. But no one called him names anymore. No one said anything to Thiru either, which she of course noticed in a few days time and confronted Tom about 'people having gone completely bonkers' as she put it. All in all, Tom couldn't have been more pleased with this turn of events.

Tom had been finding it difficult to carve out the time to invest into his new book since classes had resumed, however. With all the class work, feet upon feet of essays to write and preparing for his first set of O.W.L.'s, his research had taken a serious setback onto the back burner of his priorities. The last thing he wanted was to lose his scholarship due to something as ridiculous as not maintaining grades.

Still slightly too chilly to venture outside, the majority of the first years were more than happy to don jumpers and enjoy the spring nippiness. The snow was more or less gone, and the flowers were beginning to peek out from the ground after a long winter slumber. It was one of the rare evenings that they had no impending exams and had completed the homework assignments not due for a few days, which found Thiru and Tom doing some light reading by one of the large windows overlooking the grounds. It was moments like these Tom privately treasured.

"Tom! What pleasant, if not entirely unexpected, surprise!" was the sudden exclamation that broke the calm; Tom looked up at the intruder with a snap of his neck. It was Slughorn, smiling indulgently and looking to all the world like a proud owner taking in his prized stallion, before continuing, "What with your astounding grades so far this term, I would hardly find it difficult to believe you live here rather than the dormitories. I certainly hope you aren't staying out late into the night and missing curfew, young man! I would hate to have a reason to report you to the headmaster!" He proceeded to wink in a roguish way that told Tom, under no uncertain terms, the potions professor would do no such treachery at any given point or for any reason, no matter how possibly worthy of the headmaster's ear.

"Of course not sir. I have Ms. Arjuna here to check up on me and my hours," Tom replied smoothly, checking the urge to throttle the man.

"Ahhhh, yes!" Slughorn drawled out finally looking at Tom's friend. A strange look passed over his face before he continued," Well, behind every great man is a woman, isn't that the case?" He said a little less jovially than before.

"So goes the saying," Tom agreed in a tone correspondingly reduced in good humor, if the Slytherin boys had been present, perhaps it could have been construed as threatening even.

"Yes…well…I'll let you get back to it my boy! No time like the present!" Slughorn emphasized with a hearty slap to the back. Tom watched the hefty man amble away with a sense of relief, glad that the exchange had remained as such and had not needed to escalate to a full out altercation. Before he could return back to his book, he happened to look up at his reading companion to see a less than cheerful expression about her countenance. Unable to look her disapproving face in the eyes, he dropped his gaze to the text in front of him.

Tom bid Thiru off for the night a little earlier than usual. After the Slughorn incident, the atmosphere had been effectively ruined and neither knew quite how to put it right again. Without having said anything on the matter, Tom instinctively knew that Thiru strongly disliked him putting any effort into defending her at the risk of his own reputation, which was still astoundingly sparkling. Dippet was particularly fond of him; every time he looked at Tom, he would wax reminiscent of his own time in Hogwarts as one of the most handsome youths. (Tom had a hard time believing these stories as Dippet had the face of chimpanzee and was sporting a bald head that probably began its alopecic degradation in his adolescence.) With the exception of Dumbledore, who neither loved nor hated him but rather more analytical of him, all the professors adored him.

Thiru on the other hand, had had a much harder time of it. The few teachers that had warmed up to her had done so purely because her sweetness and drive to learn had literally broken them down. She claimed that she was used to all the hypocrisy and double standards, but Tom hated it. Tom had managed to climb out of the pit of backhanded comments and prejudice, but had left Thiru behind. Ironically, the Slytherins had toned down their verbal abuse towards her on account of his friendship with her and the fact that they were a little frightened of him now that he had shown proof to confirm the rumor of his mastery of the Serpensortia hex the night before; thus giving him the power to conjure and control, via Parseltongue, his own death weapons at will. Everyone else though, still saw cute, smart, impeccably mannered Tom. They had no reasons to lay off of Thiru whatsoever. Tom vowed to change that. Somehow, someday, he would.

In the mean time, he had work to do on his new found intrigue; a very large pet that Salazar deemed worthy of keeping in the castle upon his departure after his argument with Gryfinndor.

_She was standing in a copse, trees taller than she could even begin to guess the height of. The darkness was all encompassing, only the moonbeams creeping through the overhead foliage allowed anything to be seen at all. It was this very light that allowed vague outlines and silhouettes to be made out but not deciphered completely. Barefoot, and dressed only in a shift, she shivered as the forest chill swept through her. _

_Suddenly, she felt, more than saw, a presence emerge from the tress. A tall figure shrouded in a cloak and hooded. She felt the being's ominous aura, but also felt a trickle of curiousity emanating from it as well. She wasn't in danger, she kept telling herself as the thing proceeded closer. Her breathing picked up. Her feet were firmly planted and couldn't be lifted even if her life depended on it. Which it didn't, of course._

'_It's just a dream.'_

_It was 5 feet away. The fleeting sense of a chill, unlike any she had ever felt, not tangible, but there, deep in her bones._

'_I'm not in danger.'_

_A stride away._

_Thiru contorted her face into a carefully blank countenance. 'No need for him to know I'm scared.' Even as her heart hammered away as loudly as she had ever heard it before._

_Here. _

_Unnaturally long, scaly, cold fingers caressed her face in one long, slow glide down her cheek. She finally worked up the nerve to look up from her forward set gaze. And saw gleaming, blood red eyes._

Thiru was up again. The other girls were sleeping soundly, and the moonlight was streaming in through the window with her sitting in the window box, staring at the painted clouds on the diamond set night sky. After calming down from the dream (nightmare?), she was thinking about the oddity of her life thus far. The extreme twist and turns that had brought her to this place, so foreign and far from all she had known. So far from her mother, who, although rather dark and merciless when she needed to be, had been a source of comfort for her; even her strong father.

Now- everything was so different from how it used to be. The changes were so sudden. It left her feeling so alone at times. Especially with all the comments, dirty glances and negative energy being pushed her way on a constant basis. Being constantly rejected by everyone had a way of making you feel so small.

The only saving grace in all this was her initially reluctant friend Tom. Tom, who looked out for her and couldn't do enough for her now, even though he tried to be subtle about it. Handsome Tom, with his brown eyes, so hard to everyone else, but with a warmth that was reserved for her and her alone. Was it wrong to seemingly fall into them?

She hugged her knees closer to her chest and rested her chin on them, lowering her eyes to the glittering lake.

Tom was shoveling porridge into his mouth halfheartedly. This was the usual fare back at the orphanage, albeit a mighty bit tastier. But the consistency left much to be desired. Tom had finished his reading about the "powerful beast" Salazar has decided to keep in the castle with the intention of his heir using it against muggleborns and thus cleansing the school. Tom wasn't sure how he felt about this, considering he had only just gotten the respect (somewhat) that he felt he rightly deserved. Like he deserved the very nice black raven quill Crabbe had gotten from home yesterday. The one he crowed and bragged to everyone the night before. The one Tom slipped off his nightstand and pocketed this morning. Tom planned to use it in class right in front of him, to see if he could get a rise out of the impatient impertinent. Tom would like to see him try.

Dumbledore was staring at him again. It had became much more common to find him looking over at Tom with an expression somewhat akin to confusion or perhaps deep thought. Either way, Tom didn't like it. Certainly not the fact that Thiru pointed out earlier, that the staring started up shortly after the Slytherins had stopped the ragging, and instead left him a healthy space. Tom was fairly certain that Dumbledore was getting doubts on Tom's innocuousness. Not a good sign, but possibly not as bad as the sign of the Transfiguration professor getting up and coming down the hall between the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables.

"Good morning Tom. It's been too long since I last checked up on my ward. How are you faring thus far?" he asked good naturedly. Tom tensed slightly.

"I've been just fine, sir. I think my marks thus far should be a testament to that," Tom replied woodenly. At the curious look he registered crossing Dumbledore's face, he followed it up with a quick glance up the table, as if to mean he didn't wish for prying eyes and ears on this conversation. It seemed like the flaming haired teacher (there must be some Weasley blood in there…Tom though idly) bought the gesture hook, line, and sinker.

"Ah! Well, I am certainly glad to hear that!" Dumbledore responded, and Tom almost actually smiled at how easy it was to deflect adults who thought too little of and underestimated children based on age alone, when the professor continued, "Perhaps we might continue this lovely chat over some tea after your classes today. Stop by my office at 4:30 this afternoon, unless you have other plans…?" He trailed off.

Did he honestly expect Tom to decline? What do first years have to possibly occupy their time after class that could take precedence over having to meet with a teacher?

"Of course, sir. It would be a pleasure," Tom forced himself to say graciously. If there was ever a time to call upon acting skills, now was it. Dumbledore nodded indulgently, but the sparkle in his eye lead Tom to believe the old man knew what he was doing, and that he was thoroughly enjoying making Tom squirm.

With the end of the interlude, Dumbledore continued out of the hall, stopping briefly to wish Thiru as she sauntered in. She did a double take before wishing the professor in kind. She then headed to the Ravenclaw table, the seat on the end nearest the double doors as usual. Handy for quick escapes.

Between the bland expression, and sluggish movements, Tom was quickly able to assess from a distance that she hadn't slept well again. These dreams she had begun to have were rather disturbing and definitely a cause of alarm for Tom. Luckily, her grades hadn't begun to suffer in the slightest, but Tom was careful to ensure she got up to the dormitory at a decent hour to maximize possible restful sleeping hours. Deciding the porridge wasn't worth sitting and finishing when he could be sitting with his friend, he hefted his rucksack over his shoulder before striding over to her.

"Didn't sleep well again?" he said by way of greeting, sliding onto the bench in front of her.

"Good morning, Tom," she mumbled back, realizing belatedly that she had poured orange juice into her bowl. She sighed before tipping its contents into the glass and scourgifying the bowl before adding porridge. Tom looked on a little amusedly.

"What was it this time? More unicorn blood?" Tom inquired.

"No. No more blood, "she said softly. She waited a bit before continuing, adding sliced strawberries to her food to pass the seconds in-between. "He touched me. On my cheek."

Tom wasn't sure if the change was for the better or worse, and decided to let her tell him. But her silence merely told him that she didn't have anything else to say on the matter. Tom let it go for the moment. He had a long discussion with Dumbledore later to worry about, and he had to take whatever time he could in the more redundant classes (after reading and mastering the material in his textbooks, weren't they all now?) to prepare the comebacks and cover-ups he would undoubtedly be needing for the hour from hell.


	10. Chapter 10

Later, Tom would deny deliberately initiating small talk with Thiru after class to avoid going to his scheduled appointment with Dumbledore. Even if he were to admit to such a thing, it was all in vain, for he still ended up arriving, a mere 12 minutes late.

"Tom!" exclaimed the professor exuberantly upon Tom's entry. The office space was much the same the last time he had come in. A chaotic jungle of various instruments, books and knickknacks, no doubt acquired over the decades. A gold wall clock with jangling chains hanging from it tolled the fourth hour with a glass owl popping out from a double set of gold doors beneath the face. Obviously, more than just the professor was slow.

"Have a seat, Tom, "he said, gesturing to the paisley printed, overstuffed, high back armchair across the desk.

"Lemon drop?" He gestured to a small jewel encrusted jar after Tom had gingerly placed his reluctant self into the chair. Tom declined, just managing to do so politely of course, but only just.

"I'm afraid I have some reading to do for the Charms exam this Thursday, sir. Perhaps, if there was something in _particular_ that you wanted to discuss…" Tom could do that exam in his sleep if he needed to.

"Oh, not at all Tom! I was merely wondering how you were faring. Finals are around the corner. How are your preparations coming along?"

'Small talk? How trite. Yu may as well ask how I'm finding the weather!'

"They are coming just fine I believe, sir. Has anything I've done given you cause to worry-"

"Not at all, my boy! I like to check in with the few children that I personally deliver acceptance letters too."

'I'm so sure you called me in for small talk, old man.'

"I see, sir. Well, my studies have been just fine, sir. I find the atmosphere much more conducive now." At this statement, Dumbledore's expression, which had been previously been merely inquisitive, adopted a sudden flash of something like recognition, or, more likely, arrival onto a topic he had actually wished to discuss. Tom cringed and inwardly steeled himself.

"_Ahhh… yes_. I have been meaning to discuss that with you Tom. I couldn't help but notice that your fellow housemates' animosity has appeared to lessen in its initial intensity from the beginning of term. While I am very glad for the apparent change in attitude, I don't see you spending much time with any of them. On the contrary, I would go so far as to say you spend the entirety of your time with Ms. Arjuna. Is there anything, any assistance that you need?" Dumbledore put forth to Tom, looking at him very intently, almost expectantly, his fingers steepled on top of the desk.

'So the old bat finally noticed. Took him long enough. Old cook. I must choose my words carefully.'

"Sir, I am pleased to say there has indeed been a very apparent change of attitude. I, like you, can only guess as to the improvement. My best estimate would be that my aptitude for magic has surprised them."

As Tom gave a toothy smirk that may have passed for a smile to others, he carefully observed every nuance of the professor. Dumbledore smiled and chuckled lightly. He nodded and voiced his agreement. Tom also noticed that his eyes didn't sparkle, they knew he was lying.

After a little more small talk, Dumbledore was told by a house elf that Headmaster Dippet needed him for a meeting or some other gathering. Eitherway, Tom released a sigh of relief. That man had a way of putting Tom on edge like none other. Tom had a grudging respect for him, he was incredibly powerful. Much more than his initial meeting at the orphanage would have ever suggested. It was tricky, Tom thought, to play at being so modest and lead so many people who didn't know better, didn't know just what you were capable of. Then again, it was not so dissimilar from what he was doing. Perhaps it was the similarities that set Tom on edge, he mused to himself.

At the entrance to his destination, the library, he looked for the well known table by the full length windows overlooking the grounds and lake, and found the person he was hoping for. Today, her hair was down from its usual plait and fell over the back of the chair. Soft and shiny curls that Tom wouldn't be averse to touching, much unlike that Parkinson woman with the birds nest she called hair.

He made a quiet greeting so as not to startle her, pulled the chair before setting his rucksack down upon it. Smiling softly back at her, he gestured at the bookshelves, indicating he would get his books before settling down. Tom slipped off between the rows and walls of books. Breathing in the light scent of dust, old pages, and feeling the weight of the knowledge surrounding him, he felt at peace for the first time since being told to meet the very suspicious professor. Coming to the rows with the books on Potions, he found Rosier. Now Evan Rosier was a year older, but he fell in line with the others easily enough after the rumors had made their way around the dungeons. It was too easy. The perfect stress reliever.

'This is going to be fun.'

"Rosier, what a pleasure to see you here in the library. What book is that you have there?"

Normally heavily lidded eyes widened ever so slightly. Tom would never understand how the girls in Hogwarts seemed to find his narcoleptic facies 'beautiful and mysterious' but then again, girls were always more trouble than they were worth.

"Uh…it's the… standard textbook," was the stuttered reply. It ended up sounding more like a question than a statement.

"For second year, I presume? Well, I was just here looking for that for my essay. So nice of you to find it for me," Tom replied smoothly, smirking self confidently.

"You were…but I was…why do you need it? You're in first year?" 'Ah! At last, full sentences!' Tom thought triumphantly. 'But he's still rather slow isn't he?'

"Yes, I am," Tom purposely dragged out. "Now hand the book over." He finished with a hand held out expectantly. "Or perhaps, you need _help_ giving it to me?" Tom inquired sarcastically, simultaneously dipping his hand into his vest to retrieve the wand in its worn leather holster. At that, Rosier seemed to finally realize his options.

"Oh no! No, no! It's your book. I was actually looking for this one for myself…" he trailed off when he looked down at the title of the text he had pulled down at random. Something entitled _Baldness Blends: Hair Therapy for the Modern Man_. Rosier looked back up at Tom; Tom intentionally flicked his gaze up to Rosier's hairline.

"Ah, I see," Tom smirked one more time before strutting back to his table. "Good luck with that one!" He called over his shoulder to a rather puce Rosier. If Tom hadn't had the reputation he had, he would be a dead man right now.

Upon exiting the aisle, he almost ran headlong into Thiru, who looked emotionally conflicted.

"That wasn't nice, Tom," she told him after Rosier was out of earshot. Tom smirked and shrugged one shoulder in response before continuing down to the table. Tom wasn't too concerned about Thiru's opinion on the matter. Rosier deserved it. He was one of them. And Tom had sneaking suspicion that she found it funny deep down. Not that she would ever tell him and thereby encourage it. She followed him shortly thereafter, book in hand.

"Well, I hope you had your fun," she said primly into the silence as she sat down. Effectively ruffling his feathers with her greater-than-thou tone of voice, Tom didn't respond, though he wouldn't have minded saying something like "Yes, I did. Tormenting Neanderthals is greatly loved pastime of mine.'

'_The beazor is the most effective antidote to many poisons…' _

"He didn't even provoke you, Tom!"

'_...It is a substance that wise witches and wizards would keep on their person in case of emergencies…'_

Why was she holding on to this for so long? She usually just glared (or sometimes giggled when she thought he wasn't looking at the especially well deserved times), and didn't harp on the matter. What had he just read again?

"You're better than that, Tom." She said reproachfully.

'_The beazor is the most effective antidote to many poisons…' _

Tom began to fume, but still maintained his silence, pretending to be engrossed in his newly acquired book, hoping she would be smart enough to let it drop.

'_The beazor is the most effective antidote to many poisons…'_

"Really, Tom. One of these days, you'll realize you're being just like them. It doesn't suit you."

Tom snapped.

"How dare you assume you know what _suits me_? You don't know me!"

"Sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself, Tom Riddle! You never give yourself credit for being a good person, and then you go and behave like-"

"You think you know everything there is to know about me in just a few months because I happen to spend time with you? Do not presume to know me- you know _nothing_!"

Thiru quieted down, if only to plan what she wanted to say, but Tom went on, not giving her the chance to respond further.

"If you knew me so well, wouldn't you have figured out that I spend time with you because no one else will?"

Tom didn't want to be saying this, he didn't why he couldn't get his mouth to stop.

"Everyone here finds you so despicable that they don't want to be seen with you. I started spending time with you because you were useful to me. You think I'm so good? What do you think now?" Tom hissed at her. Thiru was looking up at him with the melancholic doe eyes that had always worked him over in the past, and was no different in their effect on him now. But Tom had adrenaline rushing through him, telling him to get out, out, _out._ Now! So he snapped his gaze away from her face and slung his bag over his shoulder as he stormed out of the library. Maybe it was more like fled, he would think to himself later.

The halls were lit by torchlight along the walls, throwing Toms shadows onto the path in front of him while the shadows of his darkened features told people to move aside. Too close. Tom had gotten too close to the situation, to her. It was a folly on his part. He couldn't believe he had gotten that far in. She did know him, more than he was comfortable with. But he never thought she would use that against him. It was dangerous to get this close. It would lead to pain in the end. No one stays forever. It would be better to create some space.

Upon arriving to his dorm, he threw his bag onto the floor by the foot of the bed and closed the curtains around the bed. He lay down and closed his eyes, but sleep was the furthest thing away from him. Add to that that he had the vague sensation that something wasn't quite right, he hadn't finished something. He drew back the curtains once more and pulled the half finished essay and the now illegally obtained book that had most definitely not been checked out for use during his dramatic exit (Madam Dinkley would flay him tomorrow. Maybe he would stick it in Rosier's bag….) and began to finish the work.

A few hours later, when his hand was cramped up and his back needed to be thrown back to work out the kinks in his spine, but the roll of parchment was satisfactorily full, he went back into his bed after leaving the book on Rosier's nightstand with a sarcastic note of thanks. Tom was curiously unmoved at all by the thoughts of what would happen to osier upon his return of the book to the library's matron on the morrow. His mood was too dark to derive any amusement. It merely felt like revenge for this whole mess in the first place. Lying down, he realized the feeling of incompleteness, like there was something he had still forgotten to do, was still there. He got up and brushed his teeth, double checked his work was all done, but still felt something was off.

Tom idly wondered if Thiru made it back to her dorm alright, before shaking his head and carefully not thinking of her, or her big browns that had looked suspiciously wet earlier.

He didn't sleep well that night.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: After a really bad case of writer's block, Stella has finally gotten her groove back! I have a rough outline for the next three or four chapters. I had been hoping to fit more of the plot in here, which is why is it admittedly shorter than usual, but the next part didn't really flow in well with the theme in this chapter. So I'll start the next segment in the next chapter and that will be Part 2 of a sorts. Cheers! And thanks to all the continued readers!

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><p><em>The stillness rang in her ears as trepidation soaked into her bones. It was night time again, the moon was half full and the stars were smoke screened by cloud cover. Barren trees stabbed upwards into the sky like sharpened daggers. <em>

_One step. _

_The cool dirt was beginning to dust her feet and sink into the crevices around her toe nails as her feet sank into the earth, yellowed grass sticking in clumps here and there in patchy deadness._

_Three steps._

_A rusted wrought iron gate was at the head of the beaten-in trail, and with it at the topmost part of the hill, that she could see at this level. With every fiber of her being telling her to stop, turn back ('There are some things you cannot unseen matter how much you need to' her conscious whispers to her), she carries on. Up the pathway, towards the semi closed gate, incurring more and more of the cold, lead weight dread in the pit of her stomach with every step further up, she continues her way, like the possessed girls she had seen back in the villages in India. Is someone compelling her? _

_Deep breaths, more steps._

_*Creeeeeeaaaaaakkkkkk*_

_The gate swung open on its hinges, slowly, as if an invisible hand had pushed it toward as a form of beckoning her onwards. As she climbed up the beaten trail, a old, beaten up house appeared on the horizon, fom its Victorian spired towers and roof to the warped white washed fencing on the wrap around deck, it was a standing contradiction. The architecture was rather modern enough by society's latest fashion sensibilities; why then was the house like a peeled orange with its cracked, sun bleached lacquer and dilapidated wooden slats along the walls? Almost as if it had 40 years…._

'_Curious…' Thiru thought to herself as her nightshift hiked up with her steps up the front porch. _

_Then the silence was broken by faint voices coming from upstairs. Cocking her head to the side, she began to ascend a flight of stairs in the rather grand, antique décor adorned dry wood stairs that may have a rich mahogany or cherry at one point, she can no longer tell, take her up to a hallway. Even with its fine furnishings, for they are fine even with their layer of dust and cobwebs, can't make the dark emptiness less ominous. A light peeks out from the door at the end of the hall left slightly ajar. It flickers over the hallway floor and door jam. Firelight. _

_The voices have attained more clarity. A man and a woman, arguing it seems. Thiru creeps closer and ducks behind one of the dark wood tables with inset drawers kept along both sides of the hall. _

_ "How can you do this?" the woman asks imploringly._

_ "How could you leave so easily? You answer my question, and I'll answer yours." The man says in seemingly calm manner, but Thiru knows that tone of voice. It's the same one her father had when she had done something bad; when worse things were about to preclude the current conversation. It was a calm maliciousness born of innate talent and devoted practice. _

_ "Its not right! He's just a boy!" she continued on, getting progressively more and more emotional. The man remained silent on the matter. "It may not even be true!" _

_ "Of course it is true!" There was a brief darkness cast over the hallway, as if a cloak had been dramatically swept over the light spilling from the fireplace. "It is a prophecy! You of all people should know the impact of that!"_

_ "Of course I know its impact!" The woman seemed to be rather insulted, as if she could and was an authority on matters such as these. "What I mean is that you don't even know what the wording of the prophecy was! It may not necessitate the boy to die so that you may live! I realize that killing has become somewhat of a norm for you, but I hadn't realized that you had stooped to infants, Tom!"_

_ 'Tom?' Thiru thought curiously. The silence that ensued was deafening and the tension was thick enough to cut. Thiru, getting much too curious crept up the hall over the running carpet and nimbly as possibly, praying the wood planks didn't creak. She got up to the door jam, and peered in. _

"_You seem to have forgotten that you lost the right to using that name when you left those many years ago. Furthermore, you seem to have a very…vested… interest in this child." Tom spoke in equal measures of soft and powerful. _

_The woman looked up, turned slightly more to the doors direction to speak to Tom and Thiru had to stifle a gasp of utter shock for looking back at her….was herself. Aged maybe to fifty years; Tall, bright eyed, slightly wrinkled, silver streaked hair in a long plait, and most assuredly her. Beautiful and graceful in that way her mother had always been. _

"_There is no reason for me to have some sort of interest in this child over any other, Tom. I merely have a higher respect for life than you seem to be able to comprehend." _

_Thiru would've listened to the conversation between her and Tom's future selves all night, but she heard a decisively heavy sounding movement coming up the hall. As she slowly turned her face in the direction of the stairs, she was greeted with a brief flash of yellow eyes glinting maniacally before it lunged for her face and the only thing she could see were ivory fangs dripping clear liquid…_

Thiru awoke in cold sweat with drops of perspiration dripping down to soak the sheets and her night gown. Sitting up ramrod straight and taking greedy gulps of air at rapid fire pace, she was briefly thankful she hadn't screamed out loud and woken the other girls. They had surely noticed that she hadn't been sleeping well, she'd heard enough soft spoken comments on the state of her under eyes and the sorry state they were. They didn't need to know the cause was extremely troubling dreams.

This was the first one with Tom in it. She knew it was her Tom, who else could it have been? It was highly unlikely she would become close enough to another person named Tom enough to demonstrate the levels of emotion she had during the fight.

She had left Tom. They had fought and she had left. And Tom became a murderer, presumably one that killed babes in arms. How could it come to this? How could Tom, who was so dear to her, so good to her, ever become like that? Surely not because she had left him alone? In this world though, they were all the other had. That was a fact.

"I can't leave Tom." She whispered to herself in the dark sleeping quarters, said with the passion of a prayer, sworn with the conviction of an oath . "I'll save him, from himself if need be. But he won't become a monster. This I swear."

'And he'll be my redemption.'

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><p>Breakfast in the Great Hall proceeded as it usually did. People bustling around as they spread jam on their toasts and poured juices and teas to the tune of morning rituals; The occasional paper airplane by the more rambunctious boys and last minute fixing of fire engine red lipstick and primping of artificially blonde curls by the equally artificial prima dona girls among the different houses. Why then did Tom feel particularly…off?<p>

He reminded himself again of how dangerous it was to be so close to someone, and to actually need them? It was unthinkable, but that was what he had done. It was a hard truth to swallow. After years of seclusion, he had been conditioned to feel safety in solitude. No matter how many times he chanted this to himself, he still wasn't able to curry up his normal appetite.

Thiru walked in some 22 minutes later. Not that he had been counting or checking the double-doored entrance repeatedly. He got the vague impression that his heart was leaping up into his throat when he laid eyes on her at first, but made sure to look away and seem utterly nonchalant before she had a chance to look back. Tom was able to stomach even less of what he'd piled onto his plate mechanically earlier on. Instead he was only able to keep glancing up at the Ravenclaw table and observe the even deeper, darker bags under her eyes and the slight slump of her normally proud shoulders. Tom couldn't decide if he was pleased that she was as miserable as he was or if he had further cause to be concerned.

After the whole affair of dining, or as some of the Gryfinndors had done, shoveling as much and as many types of foods in arms reach into a single mouth and swallowing the muck down ('swine, the whole lot of them'), Tom was at a loss of what to do. Should he maintain the façade and continue onto class alone, or does he wait and go to class with her in silence? Silence that would inevitably be awkward. Because there was no way that he was going to apologize. Tom Riddle didn't get down on his knees and beg like a weakling. Not even for her!

'So…I guess its going to class alone then.' Tom thought to himself after some deliberation. Awkward silences were not his cup of tea. He had just gotten out of the hall and was carrying on down to Defense Against the Dark Arts, now furiously thinking of where he should be sitting, because sitting next to Thiru wasn't an option that didn't invovle awkwardness, when he heard the very subject of his concentrated efforts call his name from behind.

"Can I speak with you for a moment?" she asked tentatively once she had caught up with didn't reply. And he tried his hardest not to look her in the eye either, for he was fairly certain those big browns would be working overtime and his resolve would crumble.

"Tom, please? I know you're still angry with me. I'm sorry, alright? I just want us to be friends again. I don't want us to drift apart," she kept going on even with his eyes trained on a stained glass window.

Was that supposed to be abstract art or something?

"Tom."

Or was it some sort of mash up of left over pieces that no one else wanted? Stuck together with ugly glue? That he knew well.

"I miss you."

Toms head snapped back at that. He was right; her eyes just about killed him. She won this round. But she didn't need to know that yet. They looked at eachother for a few moments. Minutes or seconds, Tom couldn't say, but he was glad the other people in the corridor seemed to not care either way. With a heavy sigh, Tom relented.

"Class?" he breathed out exasperatedly, with an inflection that he was so very put upon. Thiru merely grinned brighter that the sunlight filtered in through the patchwork window nearby and seized the arm he had most definitely not offered to her.

At least, Tom thought to himself as he took some books from her arms, he would be able to sleep well tonight.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: This chapter was really fun to write because I got to delve into my history buff, nerdy self. :D I've provided links for pictures and some of my references for the stuff in here if anyone is interested in seeing what late 1930's London life was like.

Also- don't get me wrong, I love Poland and Polish people, but Tom isn't supposed to be 100% nice. So sorry if anyone is offended. :/

I just realized I had Tom studying for O.W.L.s in Chapter 10 when they are a fifth year test. O.o Whoops! I just corrected that, and so sorry to people who noticed.

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><p>PART 2<p>

17th, July 1939

2:10 in the afternoon

A light breeze blew into the single bedroom, making the drab green checked curtains lightly bend back into the room. The sun was playing a game of hide-and-seek with the pedestrians walking below on the cobble-stoned London streets, alternatively peeking out and hiding behind puffy cumulus clouds. The muggy heat rolling on the air carried the strange mix of smells only London could provide; the stench of the polluted Thames, fresh baked bread from the bakery across the way, sewage swill dredged up from the gutters from the previous nights rain, and bunches of peonies, lemon grass and lavender kept on the windowsill by Martha in vain efforts to keep the freshness of the room. Yes, Tom was back at Wool's orphanage.

Mrs. Cole was downstairs in the drawing room, entertaining a young couple, looking to make an addition to their home no doubt, with a cup of tea in the best china the establishment had to offer. Which was still chipped, Tom noted. Unlike many of the little ones scampering around the halls excitedly, Tom was rather sourly disposed. They had been supposed to go for a holiday in the countryside by Oldstairs Bay where there was a strip of beach and jagged white cliffs by the sea. It was the only bright spot of an otherwise miserable summer for Tom. Before Hogwarts, it was the only other place he had been too outside of London. But the unexpected surprise had delayed the trip to next weekend.

Small ones. That was the only ones that were wanted. There was a well accepted fact here that once a child had crossed the age of five, they were here to stay at Wool's till they came of the legal age to be considered an adult- or as Tom personally viewed it, old enough to be free. Free of legalities, to make their own choices, and move about. Free to not listen to other children tell him how strange he is. How he must be the spawn of Satan to be able to do some of the things he does. Free to buy his own belongings and not covet his fellow orphans'…well, till he took them for his own. The orphanage left little of the bare necessities to be desired. Tom realized that compared to others, he was well taken care of. Especially when he saw sorry little guttersnipes poking around the back alleys for scraps in the waste bins. "Counting his blessings" - as Martha, the assistant and school teacher for the younger children, had advised him when presented with his perpetually dour expression - was not working so well for him. He just felt sorry that he hadn't been able to stay at Hogwarts over summer holidays despite his ardent request to Dippet. Trying his luck with his 'mentor', Dumbledore, hadn't yielded any fruits either. In fact that had seemed to actually be worse than Dippet's heartfelt apology accompanying his reply in the negative. For at least Dippet had not told him of the agreement made with the orphanage that he should reside there over the summer in return for not giving up his room and effectively leaving him homeless. So Tom was now stuck here at Wool's for the foreseeable future till the new school term began in September. Without the list of school supplies he didn't even have an excuse for himself to leave his drab prison and wander a bit.

He had toyed briefly with the idea of staying with Thiru, but he then remembered Dumbledore's promise to Ms. Cole and Mr. Wool himself, and decided against it. It would be better to stay at Wool's and visit Thiru once in awhile. Though that had been his plan, it hadn't worked out to be very feasible since the orphanage was placed in Haggerston area of Hackley, while Thiru's town home was in Upper Belvedere of Bexley Village, which at this point was more or less gobbled into Urban London with its expansion, and could probably be considered another borough. It was hardly convenient to traverse that kind of distance without the tube running all the way to eastern London and only the omnibus to rely on. Unless Tom had money to splurge and get a private motor cab, but that was far beyond his means! So Tom was left to his own devices for the most part, except for the late evening chats to discuss their days and the progress of homework assignments over their mirrors. It was the only highlight in Tom's otherwise very long, very boring and very tortuous summer vacation thus far.

Of course there was always nightly news cast over the radio after evening meal, and the children and matrons would all gather around the fireplace in the main sitting room to listen. The children mainly sat to listen to the stories told with their hyperbolic sounds to aurally animate the tales. The news was more or less unchanged since spring, when the main powers had agreed to guarantee Poland's rather tentative independence. Frankly, as far as Tom was concerned, any country that was this inept at protecting itself was not only deserving of a coup, but begging for one.

Tom looked up from his seat in front of the window when he heard on knock on his door.

"Tom?" It was Martha. "Tom, whachoo yous doing in 'ere all by yourself? Donnea want to join the others for a litt'le while? It cannea be nice bein 'lone all day." Martha said gently in cockney accent, leaning softly on the broom in her hand. She wasn't more than 32 as far as Tom could tell, still lovely with that lower town charm that flower girls on the road possessed. Just minus the dirt smudges, with sparkling blue eyes, starw colored hair, and more or less even teeth, she was quite the catch for this part of town's standards. Especially if the doe eyed chimney sweep's adoring looks her way were anything to go by.

"I'm reading Martha," said Tom casually, careful to use his hard earned proper English drawl. "Besides, you know the other children are doing just fine without me. I'm rather a bit of killjoy." Tom continued with a wry smirk. Martha knew very well about all the complaints against him by the other children. They ranged from the usual to the ridiculous. To Ms. Cole and Martha, stolen objects that were found under his mattress when he was still sleeping in the common dorms and was more amateur in his workings were the norm; kids claiming to have been dangled by their feet off the side of a cliff…not so much. Nor were they believed, but they were there none the less.

"Well, I 'ope yous made some friends at this 'ere fancy school you've been off at. How wa' it? I bet its loav'ly, in't it?" She commented felicitously as she swept dust off the floor and into the hallway.

"Its perfectly satisfactory for a school," Tom said, choosing not to elaborate further. He got off his chair and allowed her to sweep under it as she went around the room.

"Tha's it? 'Perfectly Satisfactory'," Martha surprised him by mocking his English drawl. She looked up with mirth in her eyes as she giggled. "Oh, Tom, yous always been them serious type, 'aven't you? Always will be, me's suspects." With one more chuckle and a slight shake of her head, she left his room.

Martha was a nice enough person, but even she found things to mock Tom about himself. Everyone in the place refused to accept that Tom was great. That he was better than them. And he was. He didn't speak with a low class cockney accent, he read every book he could get his hands on and made sure his education had never spared any subject untouched. Yet, they all found his flaws and brought him down to their level with their laughs and jokes. And Thiru wondered why he hated people laughing at him. Well, it certainly had started early.

There was nothing wrong with being serious. Seriously.

* * *

><p>"How have you been, Tom? I thought you were supposed to be going on holiday this afternoon?"<p>

Tom and Thiru were having their nightly chat before bed, much to Thirus surprise when the mirror vibrated on the nightstand.

"We were, but we had a couple…unexpected guests calling on ."

"Oh well that…was not pleasant?" Thiru asked with a confused expression and a raised eyebrow at the look on Toms face.

"Would-be parents," was all Tom had to say for Thiru's face to slip into a mask of neutrality except for her eyes which held a small bit of sympathy. Not pity, Tom noticed.

"Oh…Well, the trip isn't cancelled right?" Thank god she had the good sense to not linger on that, and instead move on to other lighter topics.

"No, we're scheduled to go next weekend," Tom tried not to say too morosely.

"Well, now we can meet up on Wednesday and get you that sun hat. Oh, don't look at me like that! You know how fast you burn! And without a proper school nurse, who going to make sure that delicate darling skin of yours won't peel right off?!"

"I'm not a delicate darling, and I-"Tom cut off his indignant reply as he heard sounds coming closer from the hallway. "Hang on!" He whispered hurriedly before shoving the mirror under the mattress of his bed just as the door creaked open.

"Tom?" Little Charles asked sleepily, "Wha yous doin'? I 'ear you talkin', but ain't no one in ere'." He rubbed his eyes with little chubby fingers. Charles was three, with dirty, sandy curls and unremarkable brown eyes. He was also going home with the Abbotts, the young couple that came in the afternoon, tomorrow. The paperwork just had to be filed before 'the adorable, moon-faced angel' went to his new home.

"Ever heard of the saying thinking out loud Charles?" Tom said not unkindly, despite his bitterness at the child's luck. The little midget shook his round head with his pink lower lip protruding slightly in his confusion.

"What are you doing up, Charles?" Tom asked exasperatedly.

"Can't sleep. say imma leaf and go'a new house with 'ose people from this afarnoon in the mornin'. I don wanna go! I don wanna leave all the others!" Charles released in an outburst of big, fat, rolling tears. Tom sighed at his misfortune at being the one Charles had chosen to come to about pre-adoption jitters. He couldn't even say goodnight to Thiru properly. But Charles was the only orphan in Wool's that didn't fear him and seemed to think he was funny for reasons other than everyone else's mockery.

"Alright, Charles, let's go get some hot milk and talk about it, alright?" He said taking the little one's hand in his own and walking back down the hall to the stairs.

He promised himself that he would call and talk to Thiru properly tomorrow. Tonight, he was going to enjoy one last hot cocoa, one last night with a small child who saw him as a normal boy. A child Tom realistically knew he wouldn't ever see again in this lifetime. Tom made sure to squash to not unknown welling of emotion bubbling up his stomach to his throat at that thought. Tonight was just about tonight.

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><p>The omnibus: .<p>

Tube Lines 1908: wiki/File:Tube_map_

Motor Taxis: .

Bexley History: .uk/bexley/assets/histories/bexley-village


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: So sorry for the long wait! I've been visiting my family the last month and a half. As a result, I haven't been able write at all. Again, so, so sorry! On the bright side, my writer's block doesn't seem to be blocking anymore. :) With some time spent at the keyboard, the next chapter should be up much sooner than this one. *cringe* Anyway, on with the story...

* * *

><p>They left for their holiday that next Saturday as planned, no hitches this time around, though they were one member short. Tom had the second-hand, wide brimmed, straw hat Thiru had picked for him. It wasn't the height of fashion by any means- it had probably been someone's in 1914 on a potato farm, as Tom had claimed petulantly in the store three days ago. But Tom internally ceded her point of his propensity to peel, so, on his head it was.<p>

The other children hadn't pestered him too much…yet. Tom was always waiting for the other shoe to drop on such occasions as this. The weather was pleasant enough, but Tom couldn't help thinking back on how nice it was to sit out by the lake at school with Thiru in weather cooler than present and how much less lonely it had felt, even when no words were being spoken. This was a different silence.

The wind…the waves crashing onto the whitened, jagged rocks at the feet of the cliffs… the laughter of the other children as they made a game of chasing each other; all were the sounds heard in this isolated piece of paradise. Tom was walking along the ridge of the cliff, observing his feet as they tread upon the transition line of grass and rock. Small wild flowers of white and yellow blanketed the fields as far as the eye could see. He suddenly saw a little depression in the edge of the bluffs up ahead and, turning back to make sure no one was paying him undue attention, made his way slowly up to it.

It was a projected ledge that looked like a pathway, down to the bottom, where a small bank of sand with white foaming waves lapped up periodically. Tom knew that right now was a low tide time of the day and that this would normally not be an easily accessed area. It certainly wouldn't be here later with the full moon in the sky. Making an unspoken decision, he crept down the ledge, careful to hold onto the sheared rock wall beside him as he climbed his way down.

His fingers made good effort at supporting him on some of the spots where footholds had been sketchy at best, and his heart had stopped and leapt into his throat where he slipped a few times and felt the imminent fall about to take him whole into the murky waters below. But he eventually made his way all the way to the bottom, walking down the sand bar some distance before he found yet another surprise for the day- a cave. It was maybe 25 feet high and 15 feet wide with an oblong entryway.

Tom crept to the large orifice in the skyscraping bluff. The insides were the same flint streaked, chalky white stone as the front facing cliffs, but the depth of the void inevitably meant that the white faded into black shadows. Tom would need some way to start a fire to be able to see even six inches in front of him if he were to enter. Lord only knows he didn't have a lamp on him; they had to leave before dusk set in. What he wouldn't have given to be able to just do a spell, things were so much easier with magic- life was much easier with it. With a sigh of resignation, he set about casting his gaze around the bank for potential drift wood and some flint stones broken off from the cliff. A few moments of scanning the area had Tom mildly flustered, finding wood on the bank that wasn't soaked through was proving to be difficult. Just then, he noticed his back pocket vibrating softly, if was the only thing he refused to leave in his knapsack back at the picnic site with the other orphans.

"Oh Tom! I'm so glad you could answer! I just had a discovery at the bookshop, I just had to show you it! I just knew you would be the only one who could appreciate-, "Thiru gushed the minute a glass image of her appeared. Then a stained, leather bound book cover was shoved in front of her face and wobbled precariously as she apparently tried to hold it up in front of the mirror one-handed.

"Would you calm down for a minute? I just made a discovery of my own here and I was _trying_ to think." Tom partially snarled.

"Oh? Thinking on what?" Thiru countered much more snidely than her usual chipper self. Perhaps he didn't need so much ice in his tone upon answering…

"I found a cave here," he answered more gently, subtly apologizing for his shortness. Thiru seemed to accept it, for what it was as he eyes warmed and her smirk transformed to a small smile.

"Really? Might I see it?" Tom flipped the mirror so it pointed at the monstrous opening.

"Oh my!" He heard her exclaim from the back of the glass," That is quite a find. Why not go in and see some more? What if there is something hidden inside?"

"I was trying to when you called," Tom explained trying to be patient, "but the bank is covered at high tide and all the wood here is soaked- not suitable to burn."

"What about taking off a branch from that growing out of the cliff down there?" Tom bewilderedly looked at the cliff wall around the cave and was about to clarify when her glass broke to the point of her seeing things that weren't there, when he noticed it about 5 feet down; a sort of bush or the early stages of a tree, protruding from the crack of the cliff and reaching for the sun.

Striding over, Tom tells Thiru to hold on as he places the mirror down into the sand and looks for good wood to use as a torch. Climbing up some of the loose rocks at the bottom, Tom makes his way up to the plant. After losing his foothold a few times and some scarped up plams later, he is virtually eye level with the plant. There is a dead branch among the others that Tom plucks out. Miraculously, it is dry.

Triumphantly, Tom makes his way back down before digging the handle of the mirror in the sand and propping it at an angle against the cliff so he could talk to her hands free. He gathered a couple pieces of flint and started striking them near each other towards one end of the stick.

"I'm going to hazard a guess and say you don't have cloth, or oil to tie around that?" Thiru asked sardonically from the sand. Tom didn't bother to answer that but for a raised eyebrow.

"I'd bring another stick with you then, otherwise that you won't get too far." Tom ceded that point inwardly and collected another stick before settling in with the flint again. Twenty or so strikes and some amused, girlish chuckling later, Tom managed to land a spark on the stick. A little blowing and fanning and Tom was ready to explore. Torch in one hand, mirror and spare torch in the other, he crept forward along his imaginary pathway. The cave got deeper and taller the further he traveled inside. The ceiling and floor was covered in stalagmites and stalactites ranging in lengths of 5 feet at the smallest, to the full 50 or 60 feet height of the cave inside. Some of the sea water had become entrapped as the cave delved down, enough that Tom thought a boat could serve well to get inside. Thiru and Tom marveled together and discussed what they thought of the cave. Thiru remarked that torches lining the walls and floating candles would be truly magnificent in such a grand piece of nature. The first torch was naught but a shot stick and Toms hand was beginning to heat up more than what he could tolerate, and Tom knew he had to turn back. But not before promising himself that he would return.

* * *

><p>Dinner that night was an unremarkable event consisting of tasteless, but edible, food. Tom never went hungry, but after filling himself on Hogwarts' succulent birds and delicate pastries, the orphanage's fare left much to be desired. Tom was pondering the odd sweetness of spiced pumpkin juice as he returned to his rooms. Which is probably why he didn't notice the room door across from his own was slightly ajar.<p>

It was only when he felt the mirror slip out of his back pocket that he realized his mistake,but by then it was far too late. Amy and her more-or-less unofficial minion, Ben, were twirling the antique between young fingers.

"You've been carrying this quite oft as of late, Thomas. Has your ego and vanity reached all new levels?" Amy queried with a light toss of chestnut curls as her deceptive honey eyes attempted to scorch holes through Tom. Amy thought herself rather clever, between her falsely warm doe eyes and girlish charms, adults ate from the palm of her hand. After cycling through several homes, by age 8, Amy was most assuredly staying at Wool's for good. Tom suspected she never really got over the repeated failure for a family to stick. But, if there is one thing Tom knows, its that acts at playing nice can never last forever. And Amy is far from nice. In fact, he'd go as far as say she was a specific kind of evil.

"Quite an ugly thing int'it?" she drawled out in semi-proper English. Books were never one of her fortes.

"Then you shouldn't like to keep it I imagine," Tom tried to reply nonchalantly. It was difficult to maintain a icy calm front when his heart was trying to beat its way from his rib cage and he was digging his fingers into his palms behind his back to prevent them from grabbing at Amy's throat.

"Hardly!" she exclaimed over a mocking huff of laughter. "But I might just be doing you a favor by taking it away from you, Tom. "

"You wouldn't dare take my things, Amy. You know that there are consequences for that," he left the threat to hang on the air in dramatic fashion. Amy seemed to not take notice of that however.

"I've seen yous, you know…talkin' to it, like its some kind of person," she paused to let that sink in for Tom before continuing, "At first, I thought yous were just nutters like I always thought. Maybe thought yous were talkin to Lucifer or somfins. But then…I's heard a voice coming from it…"

"Somefins off with yous Tom, always has been," Ben finally chimed in," We's takin this thing down to Miz Cole. Its gonna get looked at all over!" Clearly this was Amy's idea, it wasn't brilliant, but it was certainly above his capabilities.

"I think I might'n be _suggesting _to Miss Cole that the **priest **down ways should be lookin' at it too. Since you are in with Satan an all…" Her smile was cold and her eyes were sharp. Tom idly thought that he should work on a look like that for himself before focusing on the present.

Tom was just about boiling with rage at all this ridiculousness. Amy spoke of Tom's ego when she herself rashly overestimated herself. More importantly,when Thiru called tonight, the muggles would be able to see; for all the charms, transfigurations and spells he had placed on the pair, there was no muggle proofing on either device, a fact Tom fervently planned to remedy upon arrival at school. But for now, he had to get it back before Thiru called.

"Return my things to me this instant…or it may be _you_ dangling by your feet at the next trip to the cliff." Tom's eyes burned and by the slight fear that crept into Amy's eyes at the threat, Tom knew she would break soon. It would only take a few more minutes, just a little more-

"Alright children, enough jabbering! Head off to bed!" Ms. Cole called from the staircase as she headed down the hall with her kerosene lamplight. "Tom, Amy, is there any conflict here?" Before Tom could even get a word in edgewise, a mad glint entered Amy's eyes and she spoke up.

"Ms. Cole! I caught Tom with this mirror, he stole it from me!" the malicious manipulator lied fluently.

"Is this true, Tom?" Ms. Cole asked sternly, turning to Tom with a hand on her hip.

"NO! That mirror is mine!" he retorted indignantly.

"Ms. Cole, look at this! Its far to womanish for Tom, int'it? He stole it from me before the picnic and he's making threats on me now that I's it gotten back." Amy declared indignantly.

"That's a lie!"

"Its true! Int'it Ben? Din't he say he'd hang me from me's feet over a cliff next trip we's got?!" Ben, the crony, nodded solemnly.

'_Well there goes the last semblance of educated speech_.' Tom thought to himself wryly.

"Now Master Tom, we both know that you have a bit of a history in these sorts of things, and that's no way to be speaking to a lady!" Ms. Cole chastised him with her usual look of consternation that Tom knew meat he had lost this before it started.

'_Ah well, in for a penny, in for a pound_.'

"I would agree to that, Miss Cole, if it had indeed been said to a lady," was Tom's sardonic repartee as he glared at Amy.

Ms. Cole's indignant gasp and the shove into his room with the promise of no future trips to the bay next week was the last thing he heard and felt before he was locked in from the outside for the night.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I'm so sorry about the super late post! Combination of life, exams, and honestly, writer's block. I know where I want to go with this, but not necessarily how to get there. Part of the learning process I suppose. But i finally churned it out there, and will hopefully have the next chapter up soon. Thanks so much to anyone who has stuck with this. Also, comments are appreciated very much! It helps me know if I'm writing this in a good direction or not.

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><p>Obviously, Tom missed the call from Thiru that night, and in the morning Amy started looking at him differently than she had the night before; an amalgam of wariness, confusion, disbelief and possibly awe. But superimposed on all of that was that mad glint she wore last night. It was that glint that told Tom that the game had changed and the rules that applied earlier had too…Amy had leverage on him.<p>

'Of course, my…pre-stated consequences should hold more weight now…except that the old cow has made it so I cannot even go next week and make good on my threats,' he mulled to himself over morning porridge. At least she didn't seem to be telling everyone. Tom wondered how long it was going to be before she figured out how to make calls herself. When she did, that was it. He was done for. She would recant that it was her mirror and say she saw Tom with it, that he looked suspicious so she took it to show the minister. That Tom himself was a worshipper of Satan and all the complaints against him which previously passed for childish exaggerations would be under close scrutiny in light of this discovery. God only knows what would happen to him then.

Then he had a horrible recollection; the Ministry of Magic had laws in place that forbid revealing the magical world's very existence. Clearly Tom had already broken that with Amy and possibly Ben finding the mirror, but if he didn't stop her from taking it further, he could very well be expelled from Hogwarts, kicked out of the new safe haven he found for himself. That was utterly unacceptable. It was time for some serious damage control over the situation.

With that sobering thought, Tom felt decidedly less hungry for the bland concoction in front of him as he got up from the communal tables and left the hall. Wandering around the halls lined with faded paintings that didn't move or have half the personality of the Hogwarts' masterpieces, Tom went back up to his room.

As he got up to his room, he struck an idea, brilliant in its simplicity. Amy and Ben were both still down at breakfast, and he hadn't seen them carrying the mirror. Of course, it would be stupid to leave the artifact alone at any point when it was such key point of blackmail material, but Tom would bet good money (that he didn't have) that Amy and Ben were just that kind of mental. They didn't have half the sense or skill that Tom did, it wouldn't occur to them that Tom could (and would) simply search their rooms when they were outside them.

Creeping to the door across from his own, he listened toward the stairwell for a split second before carefully slipping inside. Amy's room was similar to his own, drab curtains and sparse furniture. The only things different were the dull, pink dressed rag doll on the bed and a few thin spined books; picture books, if Tom were to hazard a guess, probably with the words broken down into syllables. Tom rather thought his eye roll was inevitable.

There weren't many places to look, fortunately. It seemed as if Amy had thrown the mirror across the room from her bed. It lay in the corner of the room, along with strewn hardcover books, shards of what looked to have once been an ivory letter opener that had been on Ms. Cole's desk the last time Tom had been in her office, and a small stone paper weight. Tom figured Amy had been alarmed enough at the sounds and random appearance of a face in the mirror that she had tried to break it, and due to the anti-shatter charm, she had been very unsuccessful despite her seemingly numerous attempts. Tom picked up the mirror swiftly and turned to leave the room.

"What exactly have they been teaching in the fancy school, eh?" Tom looked up to the door to see Amy with her goons standing in the doorway. Only, she wasn't wearing her signature smirk, now she had a malicious snarl curling over face. And she was steadily strolling closer, apparently fearless, but Tom knew the confidence was only there so long as she had her brawn behind her. "What've they been teachin' yous, eh? You're a buncha Satan worshipers, aren't ya?!"

Tom might've been able to take on Amy if it had to come to physical blows, but he was outmatched in strength and weight when he calculated in Ben, and now Charlie. He was slowly getting backed into a corner.

"I saw a darkie girl last night, Tom. She must be a freak like you! There's no doubtin' that youre goin' to hell, Tom," Amy taunted. That's when the first blow came. Tom saw stars as the breath was forced from his chest. His head swung back as pain bloomed over the arch of his cheek. Tom dropped to his knees and clutched the mirror close to his chest, tucking his head down into his lap as the boys began to kick, and Amy began to laugh. One after another until Tom could scarcely count them any longer. One last, strong swing sent him rolling back to the wall, the mirror skittering across the floor.

"You ain't never gonna see this again, Tom. And I'm gonna tell the father down at the Abbey here all about your little darkie friend, and how yous two been practicing devil magic. You watch and see Tommy Boy, you watch and- what yous two naffs lookin at?" Amy suddenly rounded on the two large boys, who were in turn watching the trickle of moisture slide from her left eye, down the curve of her cheek.

"Hey, I ain't cryin- AHHHHHHH!" Amy gave a blood curdling scream when she lifted her hand to her sight and saw the drop of blood on her fingers. Her sclera was a brilliant vermillion, blood, which was now trickling down her face in a steady stream, as her nose began to bleed slowly as well. She continued to scream in abject horror, touching her face while staring at her reflection in the mirror. There were now more blood tracks on her face than visible skin. In the back of his mind, Tom thought she looked better like that. Tom watched the two blunder heads slowly raise their hands in the air, terror written over their faces.

"You will hand me the mirror, you superfluous little twit, and in return, I won't do anything further." Tom took the mirror and stalked away, the sounds of horrified crying dying down as Ben ran past him, most likely to bring Mrs. Cole or the nurse. Tom frankly didn't care either way. The rush of adrenaline was still rushing him far higher than he had ever felt before.

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><p>"She's blind?!" Thiru exclaimed shocked.<p>

"Apparently. She can see flases of shadows and light, but not much else. Doctor says she might yet make a full recovery. Whoopee!" Tom drolled on disinterestedly, pushing the letter he'd received from the Ministry's Department of Underage Magic out his line of vision. Apparently, it hadn't been deemed important enough for them to send anything more than a warning to Tom.

"Tom! This not something you should be so casual about! You seriously hurt this girl! Despite whatever she may have said or did, it's not something to take lightly!" Thiru replied, eyes wide and voice firm with an undercurrent of disbelief.

"It's not as if I sent a spell her way! I had no control on it! It just _happened_! You know? Its called _accidental _magic for reason." The ministry hadn't made half as much fuss as Thiru was making. What was the big deal?

"Tom, whatever the cause, you may have permanently damaged this girl's vision. That's not a small thing. Aren't you in the least bit remorseful?" she persisted earnestly. Tom's eyes darkened as he lifted the hem of his night shirt and angled the mirror to his torso. It was riddled with mottled purple and blackish blue markings, some showing definitive shapes of fingers in fists.

"Am I expected to be? After all they have done to me, all the things they said to me? Do you think I should be expected to have to feel remorse? Or pity? Or_ sympathy_?" Tom was yelling by the end of the tirade. Silence reigned for a few moments.

"No, you shouldn't be expected to. But you should anyway. That's humanity, Tom," Thiru replied quietly.

"And what good has humanity done for me? Hm? I refuse to be soft, I refuse to be pushed around and made to be the submissive sheep in the flock. Being told what to feel and how to act," Tom spat vehemently. "I'm through with humanity, and I'm sick of you judging me!" Thiru, pressed her lips tightly together, as if stopping the words that wanted to pass through, a physical barrier.

"I can see that you are…emotionally taxed right now, Tom-"

"I'm not a delicate thing that can be 'emotionally taxed'-"

"-so I'll let you go sleep. Hopefully you'll feel better in the morning." Thiru barreled on, not letting Tom cut in.

"I feel fine right now. I just don't appreciate soft, emotional sheep trying to tell me how to _feel."_

Silence, once again. Then-

"Goodnight, Tom."

Tom didn't even bother trying to call her back. He put the sinking feeling in his stomach to the back of his mind as he pulled the light, summer blanket back and tried to sleep.

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><p>It had been three days since Thiru had picked up any of his calls. Tom was beginning to think he had alienated his only friend at Hogwarts. It was time for something drastic.<p>

It took another two days, a few stolen piggy banks, and a deliberate punch to Ben's face in front of Mrs. Cole, so that he might be able to steal some shillings from her purse while she kept him waiting, but Tom finally racked up the funds needed to get the omnibus as close to Bexley as possible, from there he'd walk and save the extra change.

Tom waited till just after lunch to slip away, that way he wouldn't be missed till supper. Just to be safe, he took he mirror with him, in case Amy decided to have another go. He slipped on a tattered newspaper boy hat and his better tweed coat, despite the heat. He hoped he looked alright. Walking down the uneven cobble stones, children playing with sticks and old bicycle tires, some dirty boys in tattered clothes selling apples or papers, he soon came to the omnibus stop at the corner of the main street. The day was warm, if you were being polite; Bloody blazing, if you weren't. Tom pulled at his collar, and mentally groused at the fact he was wearing tweed of his own volition on a day like this. What kind of person had he become?

Thankfully, It wasn't too long a wait before he saw the red, double decker, wooden framed bus with its second deck arching over the driver's seat. Tom handed the conductor his change as he was granted a ticket, and sat back to watch London Town crawl by. The steam from the engine was making the city seem even more blistering than usual. Tom fervently hoped that all this effort was worth it.

It was then that Tom noticed something, or rather, someone. It was man, probably in his thirties, dressed rather smartly in a suit and tie with a bowler hat to match. What caught Tom's eye, was that the man was unerringly handsome, not that Tom was looking at him in _that _way. But he was undeniably handsome, from his straight, long nose, and strong jaw, to the sleek, black waves peeking from the bottom of the hat. His smile at a newly boarded female passenger was dazzling with two rows or straight, white teeth. But it was his eyes that stood out to Tom, they were the same cerulean blue underneath thick eyebrows as he himself had. And that struck him like a thunder bolt.

All at once, Tom was itching to get out of his seat and run to him, grab his sleeve and see this man realize that Tom was here, that he was real and alive. Ironically, Tom had never felt his legs were made of stone as much as he did right then. He sat, rooted to the seat in the corner of the bus, while the man, who was undoubtedly his father, sat a mere 7 feet away, smiling the smile that Tom knew he could pull off himself if he practiced enough. Tom looked like his father, completely like his father. You'd have to be _blind_ to not see it! It was such a revelation! The excited energy was rolling off of him in waves as he began to bounce his leg up and down, head swinging from the window, to the large lady who had seated herself next to him, back the back of his father's head.

'My _father_…' Tom thought reverentially to himself. _'I_ have a _father_.'


End file.
